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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23447221">Convictions and Consequences</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epivet/pseuds/Epivet'>Epivet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Good Omens Rom Com Event, Happy Ending, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Ineffable Jane Austen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, TV canon compliant, With love and apologies to Jane Austen, genre-appropriate misunderstandsings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:53:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23447221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epivet/pseuds/Epivet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Apocanope, Aziraphale and Crowley fall into a comfortable routine until Aziraphale's convictions persuade him to take on angelic responsibilities that Crowley can't comprehend. When fate (or a plan by their friends) forces their paths to cross again, they must overcome heartache, (genre-appropriate) misunderstandings, and malicious plots to find their way back to each other. In other words, Jane Austen's Persuasion as a sequel to Good Omens.</p><p>Updates Mondays and Thursdays</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Good Omens Rom Com Event</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dedicated to the amazing folks on the GO RomCom (now GO Events) Discord channel. Thank you to @bisasterdi for creating this wonderful community. When I joined the channel, I had only planned to beta, but their enthusiasm was contagious and their support limitless. Thank you to @summerofspock,  @Liquid_Lyrium, @Princip1914, @squidzz, @Pyracantha, and @musegnome for critiquing, brainstorming, britpicking, and cheerleading.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>One week earlier on Earth, an angel and a demon reunited on a park bench, after thoroughly infuriating their former employers, and strolled off to the Ritz. Afterwards, quite buzzed from their celebratory meal, Aziraphale and Crowley drunkenly stumbled from their favorite table to the Bentley, arms and shoulders bumping as much as an excess of champagne might plausibly excuse. Aziraphale cleared his throat as they stopped at the curb. The liquid courage of alcohol has nothing on cheating death not once but twice in 24 hours.</p><p>Wherein Aziraphale and Crowley explore their newfound freedom.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Part One: Chapter One</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Archangel Gabriel had little interest in human writing, except for discussion of his official visits. There he found the admiration and respect befitting his station. There he found reassurance of the special place God’s Archangels occupied, regardless of the absolute cock-up Armageddon had become. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding a pristine Tyndale Bible, Gabriel stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows and turned to one of his favorite passages. With his sterile, spartan office behind him, he looked out into the white expanse beyond the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And in ye .vi. moneth,” he proclaimed to the empty room, voice echoing off the cold marble tiles. “Ye angell Gabriel was sent fro god vnto a cite of Galile named Nazareth to a virgin spoused to a man whose name was Ioseph of ye housse of David and ye virgins name was Mary.  And ye angell went in vnto her and sayde: Hayle full of grace ye Lorde is with ye: blessed arte thou amonge wemen. When she sawe him she was abasshed at his sayinge: and cast in her mynde what maner of salutacion yt shuld be. </span>
  <b>And ye angell sayde vnto her: feare not Mary.</b>
  <span>” [1]</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Archangel Michael could hear Gabriel’s booming voice before she entered his corner office. Always the more pragmatic of the two, Michael took the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t as less of a personal affront and more of an administrative challenge to sort out. She had her unparalleled patience and her back channels to Hell to lean on in its aftermath. She smoothed her grey suit jacket and waited for an opportune moment before stepping into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A fit of nostalgia? That doesn’t sound like you, Gabriel”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The archangel turned to face the voice, “Michael! I didn’t hear you come in.” He shut the relic and strode confidently to meet her. “Just remembering how easy it used to be to deal with the humans. Now they don’t even cower before us. Really, when was the last time we had to say, ‘Be not afraid?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael tried to read the forced smile. Gabriel had all but disappeared into his office after the attempted execution of the Principality Aziraphale. She knew he would continue to sulk indefinitely unless something pulled him out of it, and matters were far too pressing to wait for his mood to improve on its own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes. Things do change. That actually touches on why I’m here, Gabriel. We need to discuss our response to the...incident. We have ten million angels who do not understand why they were asked to stand down. They know better than </span>
  <em>
    <span>to ask questions</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Their loyalty to Her is absolute, but whispered conversations end abruptly whenever an Archangel approaches. There’s...unrest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her soldiers are fine. Everything is good. Great, really. It’s all Her Ineffable Plan.” Gabriel’s words sprinted out in a footrace against each other. He knew how he sounded and hated it. How had that soft idiot and, even more outrageously, that stupid demon upended everything? He plastered on a fresh smile as Michael continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to do something. The Host is increasingly interested in the humans. We can’t have them exploring on their own. We need new policies. A new application for terra-travel. A reorganization,” she paused, anticipating how Gabriel would receive her final observation. “And we need someone they trust.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare say it. That traitor will never set foot in Heaven again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He survived hellfire. The angels think that is proof of Her favour. Can you imagine what it would be like if they found out he was the last of us She spoke to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh! Fine. What do you suggest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We invite him back,” Michael ignored the interjection forming in Gabriel’s throat, “as an outside consultant. He is a subject matter expert on humans, on their culture. And he has credibility with the angels. We can leverage that, turn trust in him back into trust in us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not. He’s not even one of us anymore. Heaven does not need outsiders perturbing the divine order of things,” Gabriel fumed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we can outsource the summoning of the Four Horsemen, we can bring in a retired Principality for a Heavenly purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t my Department,” he countered, puffing himself up with the meaningless distinction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hardly the point. Think on it,” she replied gently and saw herself out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One week earlier on Earth, an angel and a demon had reunited on a park bench, after thoroughly infuriating their former employers, and strolled off to the Ritz. Afterwards, quite buzzed from their celebratory meal, Aziraphale and Crowley drunkenly stumbled from their favorite table to the Bentley, arms and shoulders bumping as much as an excess of champagne might plausibly excuse. Aziraphale cleared his throat as they stopped at the curb. The liquid courage of alcohol has nothing on cheating death not once but twice in 24 hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in no state to drive, my dear. Shall we walk?” Aziraphale deftly slipped his arm under Crowley’s, or he hoped it was deft. Fortunately, any clumsiness was lost on the astonished demon. Crowley froze for a moment, staring at their linked arms. Yes, they had imbibed more than was typical, but he had expected to sober himself and then drive them to the bookshop, as usual. Of course, nothing about the past few days had been the least bit usual. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sssssure, Angel,” he finally managed, gaze fixed on the gabardine covered arm nestled against his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Splendid.” Aziraphale hummed contentedly. Crowley followed the angel’s lead as he took them on a circuitous route to Soho. His entire world now revolved around their elbows. He leaned into the delicious warmth, while the ever-vigilant demon in his head began to ring alarm bells. He had been so disciplined, so cautious over the millennia. Plausible deniability had been a necessary survival skill in Hell. Once topside, he applied those skills to ensure their safety as he orchestrated “chance meetings” and “crossed paths.” With each encounter, his attachment to the angel had grown stronger, eventually requiring unparalleled compartmentalization skills to keep his devotion hidden from Hell, Heaven, Aziraphale, and, perhaps most critically, himself. The agony he felt in the burning bookshop was beyond any punishment Hell had ever inflicted on him. It laid bare the depth of his feelings for Aziraphale, and it collapsed the buttresses supporting his mental walls. In that still raw state, Crowley’s hold on his heart felt too precarious; a word from Aziraphale and everything might burst out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The warning bells had reached a crescendo by the time they reached the bookshop. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Danger! Danger! You’ll screw this up. Get a hold of yourself. You’ll go too fast. Be smart - you have all the time in the world now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He could hear the invitation forming in Aziraphale’s mouth and cut in front of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’Spose I should go yell at the plants. You probably ruined them with compliments last night. See you tomorrow, angel.” He gave the other’s arm a gentle squeeze and sauntered vaguely toward Mayfair, all the while processing the internal cacophony of</span>
  <em>
    <span> See you tomorrow? Is that too fast? What are you doing? Should I have stayed?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he had turned a corner and was safely out of sight, Crowley leaned against the nearest brick wall and rested his head against it. The past 36 hours had been an ongoing exercise in aborted grief. First in the burning bookshop, then at the airfield when the Bentley exploded, and finally while he waited anxiously for Aziraphale to meet him after their non-executions. But, oh the joy in having everything back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And possibly even more</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought as he replayed the past touch-filled hours. Miraculous escapes and promising beginnings notwithstanding, his exhaustion seeped through his entire corporation, from his bones to his muscles to his skin. She may not have tested the Earth to destruction, but She came blessing close with him. He glanced around the empty streets and then snapped. The next moment, he was next to his bed. The plants could wait. He collapsed into the black silk sheets and burrowed into the pile of pillows. In the safety of his own space, the damn broke and he sobbed into his pillow. After centuries of cruelty, pain, heartbreak,and loneliness caused by his angel, Hell, and Her, how was he wrecked by freedom and affection? He couldn’t even dissociate enough to put on a facade for the plants. Baffled by his own tear-soaked catharsis, he surrendered to the deluge and eventually fell into a deep sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s disappointment at his interrupted invitation was somewhat assuaged by the promise of seeing Crowley tomorrow. Upon reflection, it was probably for the best, wouldn’t want to do anything foolish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let himself into his restored bookshop and immediately observed the new volumes Crowley had mentioned. Curiosity over the additions lost out to concern over for his favourite and rarest treasures. He sobered himself up and walked straight to the locked barrister cases and peered through the antique glass. Next to the signed Wilde first editions, he spied a newly materialized First Folio and had to steady himself before fetching his archival gloves. He carefully transferred the prize to his desk and settled in for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, Crowley strode into the bookshop and dropped a string-tied pink box of chausson au pommes in front of the angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! This smells heavenly, Crowley.” Aziraphale opened the box, inhaled deeply, and wiggled. “Apple? Is this a temptation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon simply grinned and sashayed to the backroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so they settled into a routine, each morning Crowley would arrive at the bookshop with a slightly different pink box of scrumptious pastry, drop it on the desk in front of Aziraphale, and head straight to the back room. The angel would pretend to run a bookshop while inventorying the restored and newly materialized contents of his collection. The demon would nap, play games on his phone, troll social media accounts. He would mischievously misshelve books and play bebop on the gramophone. He might wander out for some light demonic wiles or for takeaway, but he would always return in time to stroll to dinner, enjoy some wine while gazing at his angel eating, and then stumble back to the bookshop. Crowley would then slip away before Aziraphale could invite him in. What had started out of panic had turned into a test. Crowley noted the frequent physical contact during their strolls and Aziraphale’s radiant relief upon his arrival each morning. He didn’t want to discourage Aziraphale and risk overplaying his hand, but he was reveling in the angel’s increasingly frequent touches and terms of endearment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Aziraphale wondered if he had mistaken the intensity of emotions in the days leading up to their trials for something more than he ought. Just because they were on their own side, it didn’t mean their relationship would change. They were, after all, seeing each other daily. That was new. Unprecedented, in fact, save their failed stint at godfathering the not-antichrist. Of course, he loved Crowley. He was a being of love; he loved all of Her creations. Or so he would repeat to his fluttering heart. Over the millennia, Crowley had shown far more kindness than a demon ought to be capable of, but that hardly meant he could form an attachment of the depth Aziraphale secretly desired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite that carefully reasoned assessment, he couldn’t help but notice how Crowley leaned into his touch or how hard he was trying to look relaxed when he’d enter the shop each morning. With that in mind, Aziraphale resolved to do everything in his power to make Crowley feel comfortable enough to share his own feelings and desires. Whatever they may be. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well</span>
  </em>
  <span>, thought Aziraphale,</span>
  <em>
    <span> at least we have all the time in the world to sort it out.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>[1] Luke 1:26-30 Tyndale Bible</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"And that is why we would like you to come with us back to Heaven. As a short-term outside consultant,” she added before he could object outright. “You are still on your own side. Name your terms, and we’ll honor them.”</p><p>Wherein Heaven appeals to Aziraphale's convictions and, failing that, his deepest fear.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Part One: Chapter Two</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a nice day. All the days had been nice since the Apocanope. There had been rather more than seven of them so far. And Crowley was ready for change. After 6000 years of arrangements and bickering and saving the world, and, more interestingly, a week of the angel’s increasing disappointment at each parting, he reasoned it couldn’t be too fast. Their pleasant routine had given him time to bolster his emotional defenses, mostly by treating them like his plants and yelling a great deal. He was in control, cool, suave. He was the Serpent of Eden and he was ready to stir up some trouble and take charge of things. He got up from the sofa and strolled into the bookshop proper.</p><p>Aziraphale was sitting at his ancient rolltop desk, ensconced in his monthly bookkeeping. The piles of paper records, note pads, and pencils formed a phalanx against such unnecessary technology as a calculator. Crowley marveled at the absence of an anachronistic abacus or slide rule. <em>Best not ask or he’ll no doubt produce them, </em>he mused.</p><p>“Heading out for a bit.” Crowley tapped on the ledger, just shy of the row where Aziraphale was writing. A startled halo of white fluffy curls looked up. “Stuff to do, plants to yell at, wiles to…  uhh… wile.” </p><p>Aziraphale arched an eyebrow.</p><p>“Pick you up at 6? I’ve a place in mind.” With one hand, the demon swiveled the desk chair till Aziraphale was facing him, and with the other he gently picked up his angel’s free hand and ever so gently brushed his lips against the knuckles before releasing the suddenly warm hand. He turned quickly to hide the red rising to his cheeks, but grinned as he caught the wall mirror’s reflection of a very flushed angel intently watching his swinging hips. Aziraphale’s hand was still floating in mid-air when he heard the Bentley speed off.</p><p>It was hardly the first time Crowley had kissed his hand. Over the millennia, humans had employed a wide variety of greetings and interactions. He and Crowley had mirrored social customs. This kiss, however, was different. Aziraphale was certain. Despite its brevity, this kiss had affection, heat, <em>intent</em>. A bubbly warmth spread from his gut throughout his corporation.</p><p>During their 6000 year history, Aziraphale had not infrequently felt a yearning for Crowley’s company. He knew that Crowley had often engineered their chance encounters. At first, he attributed nefarious purposes to the plotting, but over time he found he didn’t care what purpose Crowley had. He simply knew that he missed him. He measured time by their encounters. The assassination of US President Kennedy was four years before he gave Crowley a tartan thermos of Holy Water. The Great Fire of London was 65 years after Crowley miracled Hamlet into a hit. All dates translated to BC or AC, before Crowley did this or after Crowley ran into him over there. Raising the not-antichrist over the past 11 years produced an embarrassment of riches, and Aziraphale knew he was utterly spoiled. He could hardly imagine going days, let alone years, between encounters. Oh, that kiss. That kiss hinted at assurances he would never have to endure a drought again. He wished he had tugged his hand back, pulled Crowley against him, and answered in kind. Heavens, that would have been quite a thing. The image all but short-circuited his brain; any customer wandering into the shop might have taken him for an incredibly lifelike mannequin.</p><p>After several minutes, Aziraphale had finally recovered sufficiently to move. In fact, the pendulum had swung to the other extreme; he all but vibrated with nervous energy. He stood up with no purpose but to disperse the electric agitation. Hands behind his back, he paced a Fermat spiral around the rug in the center of the shop before drifting toward his collection of Greek poetry. Perhaps cleaning would do the trick. No sooner had he picked up his feather duster than the shop bell rang.</p><p>“Crowley,” he whispered in pure delight and stepped out from behind a bookshelf.</p><p>He was shocked to see Gabriel in his dove grey cashmere coat and matching scarf standing just inside the shop, looking about like a confused customer. The Principality tensed and evaluated his options. Maybe he should have taken Crowley up on his offer (in jest?) of a thermos of hellfire the other day. Thinking of the bravery Crowley had displayed at his heavenly execution, Aziraphale stood up straight and spoke with his best I-stopped-the-apocalypse-and-spit-hellfire-at-you voice.</p><p>“You are not welcome here. Leave. Now! <em>plmp</em>” He bit his tongue against the reflexive “please.”</p><p>“Aziraphale,” Gabriel spread his arms with forced calm, “I come with an offer of parley.”</p><p>“There is nothing to discuss.” Aziraphale’s posture remained rigid, his knuckles white where he gripped the duster.</p><p>Gabriel ignored Aziraphale’s response. “As you so helpfully demonstrated last week, the Great Plan and the Ineffable Plan were clearly not fully aligned. Your rebellion has put certain… pressures on the current celestial org chart. We have decided to restructure. Since you seem to be the one closest to Her Ineffable Plan…”</p><p>“And Crowley,” Aziraphale interrupted.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“And Crowley. He’s just as close to Her Ineffable Plan as I am.” Aziraphale’s fierce instinct to protect his demon surged through his veins.</p><p>“How could the demon possibly be relevant? He was obviously just an incidental tool in Her plan. Nothing more.”</p><p>“You can’t tolerate the idea he could be closer to Her than you are.” Aziraphale fought to keep his face neutral but couldn’t suppress a smirk at Gabriel’s indignation.</p><p>“This is ridiculous. I don’t know what the other Archangels were thinking. I hope you are keeping a close eye on your precious humans. Goodness knows what harm might befall them if naïve angels come down investigating why there was no war.” As he reached for the doorknob to leave, Michael and Sandalphon pushed past him.</p><p>“Aziraphale, please forgive Gabriel’s outburst. We are here to ask for your help. Gabriel doesn’t have much experience with that, but you know that I believe in utilizing all avenues that promote Her Great, umm, Her Ineffable Plan. Perhaps we could discuss this in good faith, as She would want. After all, we’re all on the same…” Michael paused as she observed Aziraphale’s demeanor shift toward even more resistance. “We all want to carry out Her will.”</p><p>“Her will is Ineffable,” Aziraphale countered.</p><p>“Be that as it may, you clearly have greater insight on it. And that is why we would like you to come with us back to Heaven. As a short-term outside consultant,” she added before he could object outright. “You are still on your own side. Name your terms, and we’ll honor them.”</p><p>“Things must truly be a mess up there if you are desperate enough to ask for my help,” Aziraphale pondered. Good manners finally won out over his displeasure with his present company, and he gestured for them to move beyond the threshold. Out of habit, he considered offering to put on a kettle but ignored the instinct. Good manners had won, not hospitality. Gabriel stayed by the entrance and glowered; his wounded pride could take little more. Sandalphon placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward with Michael.</p><p>“You will have all the resources you need. Raziel has been itching for the chance to see the humans since she gave her book of knowledge to Adam and Eve. After all this time watching humanity from above, she is eager to interact with them again.” Sandalphon’s disconcerting smile faded as he sniffed at the air and grimaced. Michael glared at him, thankful Aziraphale hadn’t appeared to notice.</p><p>“She hasn’t been down at all since the book incident?” Aziraphale asked, surprised. Of all the Archangels, only Raziel could sympathize with Aziraphale’s affection for the humans and their world. After Aziraphale gave away his flaming sword, the Angel of Secrets gave Adam and Eve the book of knowledge to help them find their way back home and better understand God. Infuriated, the other Archangels retrieved the book and threw it into the ocean. In the end, God returned the book to Adam, but Raziel never got another visa granted under the “Petition for Immortal Travel, Archangelic” (PITA).</p><p>“Surely you don’t think she could get the paperwork approved after that stunt.” Gabriel rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Ah. I suppose not.”</p><p>“The point is,” Michael continued as she wove through the tables of books, “10 million angelic soldiers revved up for battle with nowhere to go pose security issues for us and for you. It’s been about 2000 years since we’ve gone through a reorg. Even by immortal standards, it’s overdue. Your closeness to the humans and their world would be invaluable to several departments: Heavenly Comms, Celestial Change Management, and obviously Animal and Human Resources,” she added, the pun utterly lost on her. “The general mood upstairs is that since it was Her sole agent on Earth who interrupted the Apocalypse, She must desire its continued existence, and, therefore, closer relations between angels and humans. More blessings. More visitations. You’ve complained about not being consulted on policy decisions before. This is your chance to shape the role of angels on Earth.”</p><p>“Exactly. All of that ‘acts of kindness’ crap you kept lobbying for, Aziraphale.” Gabriel growled, affecting the posture of a child waiting for his parents to shut up and say goodbye already.</p><p>Michael shot Gabriel a look that promised he’d regret it if he didn’t stop his petulance. Her casual stalking through the shop ended just behind Aziraphale. She leaned toward him and added in a hushed voice, “There’s also the delicate matter of your co-conspirator. If angels keep popping in for a quick blessing or two, one of them is likely to encounter your Crowley. If he’s impervious to Holy Water, I’m sure he’s strong enough that a bit of smiting won’t destroy him, but what if he’s discorporated? Hell is in no mood to provide him a new body.” </p><p>The threat of the Archangels seeking revenge had been a given, but the idea that a random, mid-level field angel could send Crowley to Hell for good was a new and terrifying threat. To top it off, it was evidently his own fault that the Host wanted increased contact with humans at all. Aziraphale inhaled sharply and Michael knew she had found her winning argument.</p><p>“Why don’t you think it over, and ring us when you’re ready to discuss our request. We’ll show ourselves out. Have a lovely evening.” She nodded to Sandalphon, and they closed ranks before disappearing in a bolt of lightning, leaving Aziraphale shaken and heavy-hearted.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured in a hushed voice, gazing at him with the joy usually reserved for the omakase selection at his favorite sushiya. “Yes, my dearest. Of course, I want that. I want us. I want you.”</p><p>Wherein the reader and Crowley might be forgiven for briefly thinking a happy ending on the near horizon.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Part One: Chapter Three</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley was nervously running through his plan for the evening as he sped through the streets of London. His “place in mind” was an out of the way French restaurant that, thanks to Crowley’s devotion to his angel and now profligate use of miracles, was suddenly very well stocked with a 1921 Châteauneuf-du-Pape in a renovated wine cellar that seemed inexplicably bigger on the inside. Fortunately, every time the sommelier started to notice, his shoelace required tying and the thought scurried away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>He pulled the Bentley into its usual miraculously available parking spot just outside the bookshop. The demon stared at the passenger seat, reevaluating for the millionth time the bouquet of lavender (</span><em>devotion</em>), Prince’s feather (<em>unfading love</em>), and blue hyacinth (<em>constancy</em>). He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Go big or go home, he thought. With a snap, sprigs of orange blossom (<em>eternal love and… ngk</em>) wove themselves into the arrangement. Satisfied, he stepped out, gently cradling the stunning, fragrant creation with one hand. With his other, he fidgeted with a small wooden box in his pocket. His delighted goofy grin unsuccessfully restrained, he burst into the bookshop and immediately recoiled at the smell of ozone and righteousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>No. No!</span>
    </em>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> This was not happening. He had been so careful. He’d barely let the angel out of sight during the daytime until this afternoon, and he’d secretly employed a minor demonic miracle to ensure he’d be alerted to any trouble at night. He scanned the bookshop, searching behind overstuffed bookcases.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>“Aziraphale! Aziraphale! Where the Go-Sa-Somebody are you?” His body retraced the steps he had taken during the fire, those agonizing moments he thought he had lost Aziraphale forever. </span><em>God</em>, he pleaded,<em> don’t take him from me again, please!</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“I was just in the backroom.” Aziraphale emerged, alarmed initially by Crowley’s cries and then more so by his wild appearance.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Crowley surged forward, grasping Aziraphale’s arms and confirming his physical presence with some relief. Once convinced, Crowley smothered him in a bear hug. The full body contact sent an electric pulse through both of them. Even through sunglasses, Aziraphale could see the terror in Crowley’s fully yellow eyes.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“My dear boy, everything is fine,” Aziraphale soothed as he disentangled himself. “Is this a new jacket?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Are you okay? I can’t believe they came back for you so soon. I thought we’d have more time...”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Crowley,”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“We need to go somewhere they won’t think to look for us. Alpha Centauri really is nice...”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Crowley!”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Or maybe somewhere closer for now. Then we can make a plan. The moon would…”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“CROWLEY!”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The demon finally stopped sputtering and stared at his angel. Aziraphale put his arm around Crowley’s shoulders and steered him to the back room where he deposited him into the Crowley-shaped indentation on the sofa.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“It’s alright, Crowley. I’m fine. They just wanted to talk.” As he moved to the armchair nearby, his fidgeting hands belied his air of composure. “They are considering a major reorganization upstairs. And increased interactions with humans, blessings and such. They’ve asked for my advice, and...” He paused as Crowley shifted to perch on the sofa arm and lean toward him. “And I think I should provide it.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Don’t be ridiculous, angel.” Crowley launched to his feet and began pacing like a caged animal.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Michael had some excellent points and even Sandalphon is on board. Gabriel, well, he’ll come around if the others do. He’s a reliable company man if nothing else.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>Crowley’s mouth hung open. How could Aziraphale even consider helping them? He repeated the question loudly in his head to drown out the more wounded,</span><em> I thought we wanted the same thing. I thought you wanted us. Me. </em>He shoved his hands in his pockets and was surprised by the all but forgotten wooden box. His entire corporation screamed that returning to Heaven, even briefly, would be a terrible mistake. But how to convince Aziraphale? He gathered the words chosen for the evening’s intended climax and repurposed them from a proposal to a plea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Aziraphale, you are unique in the universe. The first time I saw you, standing on the wall, wringing your hands, I was hopelessly drawn to you. Any demon with a lick of sense would have done the job and left. Any other angel would have smited me. Instead you sheltered me from the first rain. You were the sun, and from that moment I was a planet destined to orbit you. For millennia I was content to survive on any scraps of attention you would toss my way. But the past few weeks have ruined me. Even if we still had our jobs, I couldn’t go back to how it was.” He knelt before Aziraphale and covered the angel’s trembling hands with his own equally unsteady ones. “I want you to be the first thing I see every day and the last thing I see every night. Tell me you feel the same way. Please don’t leave me.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured in a hushed voice, gazing at him with the joy usually reserved for the omakase selection at his favorite sushiya. “Yes, my dearest. Of course, I want that. I want us. I want </span><em>you</em>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>“Ngk,” was all that Crowley could summon, and even that required substantial effort. Could an angel truly love, </span><em>want</em> a demon? Deeply buried in his subconscious, Crowley had suspected the attachment was mutual; his defenses would never have allowed his confession had the desired outcome seemed impossible. Nothing, however, could have prepared him for the softness of his angel’s expression, the warmth of his now open affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“You are extraordinary, you know? So clever, so brave, so kind,” he continued as Crowley blushed furiously. “Yes, I want you, have wanted you. For so very long.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>He slipped his hands from Crowley’s and gently removed his sunglasses. Staring deeply into amber eyes, Aziraphale saw his love reflected and magnified in return. He haltingly leaned forward, cupped Crowley’s cheeks to tilt his face to the perfect angle, and closed the distance between them. When his lips met Crowley’s, all coherent thought left him. For a moment, he assumed Crowley had stopped time, the moment felt so infinite. So this is what Sappho meant, </span>
    <em>Love shook my heart like the wind on the mountain rushing over the oak trees.</em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Waves of love crashed over Crowley, battering any remnants of his emotional walls. He planted his hands on the cushion’s edge and slowly pushed himself up, taking care not to break the kiss. Now the taller of the two, his knees framing Aziraphale’s, Crowley wrapped his arms around him. Sliding onto his lap, he leaned in tenderly. Aziraphale moved his hands to Crowley’s hips and pulled him closer. They sunk together into the armchair as the kiss deepened. Overwhelmed, Crowley broke the kiss to gaze at his beloved. With kiss-bruised lips and heavy-lidded eyes, Aziraphale was a vision of bliss. As Crowley tried to pull back slightly to reach into his pocket, Aziraphale planted soft kisses along the tendons of his neck.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“I’ve always been yours. Tell those idiots to sod off, and we can…” Crowley began.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>“What?” Aziraphale broke from his trance and stammered, “I can’t, that is, I need to. </span><em>We </em>need me to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Aziraphale’s words struck a staggering blow. Crowley gaped. “You can’t be serious, angel.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“I have to. They don’t know what they’re doing. Imagine angels running willy-nilly among the humans, no modern rules of engagement. What if one of them hurt you? What kind of friend would stand by while…” he flailed before the demon interrupted.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>“Friends? We aren’t </span><em>friends</em>.” Crowley pushed off him to stand, flinching as if Aziraphale had brandished a sword at him. His face performed an overture of emotions, unable to settle on just one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Crowley, things aren’t decided upstairs. I can protect you if I can influence the rules,” offered Aziraphale, standing and reaching out unsuccessfully to Crowley’s elusive hand. “Gabriel and Michael can’t hide behind their Great Plan any more. Maybe Her Ineffable Plan always included this ethereal course correction. This could be our chance at safety. I can fight for our side.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>“Clearly there is no </span><em>our side.</em> You never left theirs.” Anger was quickly winning the battle of emotions. “Always so clever about anything but those bureaucratic dictators. Listen to yourself! I thought we were past this. Do you think Gabriel is really going to sully his celestial temple interacting with humans? You can’t trust them.” Crowley was now stamping around the room as he watched a pained Aziraphale wring his hands and attempt deep breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“It could be good you know. In the long run,” Aziraphale suggested, desperate for any track to appease him. ”I’ve been running the shop for an awfully long time and some of my customers are starting to wonder at my lack of aging. Please! Please calm down. We can discuss this.” <em>I’m sorry. Please. I can’t lose you. Not now. Not when I know you love me, too.</em></span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>“Calm down? </span><em>Calm down</em>? Are you mad? They tried to kill you! I was there, angel! Wait a minute.” Crowley froze and his voice turned cold. “Your ‘lack of aging’? How long are you planning on staying up there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“You know how slowly they move upstairs. They’ll let me travel back and forth as much as we want.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“I want all of you, angel. I’ve waited long enough.” Crowley’s voice broke as all his frenetic energy drained away. He had held the most precious thing in the universe for a few moments, only to have it ripped from his hands. </span>
    <em>Idiot. Did you really think you deserved this? Of course, he chose them.</em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>“I can’t turn my back when they are finally embracing kindness. They need me. I think She needs me. None of them see Her creation as we do. How else can I protect humanity? </span><em>Our world?</em>” <em>You</em>, he added mentally. Again he tried to move closer, and again Crowley stepped away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>“Yeah,</span><em> be kind to each other</em>,” he spat. “That worked out great for her last servant on Earth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Crowley!”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“I’m not going to watch them destroy you. I can’t. Don’t know why we bothered sssaving all this.” He turned toward the bookshop door. </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Because I...” began Aziraphale. His hands fluttered uselessly. </span>
    <em>Don’t go. Please. </em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Crowley paused, hope dying in the ensuing silence. With a forced shrug, he turned before Aziraphale could see his lip wobble. Grief upon grief upon grief - the impacts of losses are multiplicative, not additive. Adam restoring the Bentley and recorporating his angel did not extinguish the pain of those losses, and this final cruel blow felt too massive to survive.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Good luck, angel.” He tossed the words over his shoulder as he stalked off, affecting an indifference he wished he felt. Aziraphale moved to follow, to stop him, but the demon was already halfway out the door.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Because I love you,” he whispered to Crowley’s back. As the Bentley’s tires squealed in rapid acceleration, Aziraphale observed the flowers, lying by the door where Crowley had dropped them in his earlier panic.</span>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you to @summerofspock for telling me to lean hard into the angst!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“And here we are. Took a couple miracles but we got you a corner office.” Sandalphon guffawed at his own joke and looked peeved when Aziraphale didn’t laugh as well. Instead, he was regarding the nameplate by the door with uncertainty: Aziraphale, Principality emeritus. Inside he found more sterile white office furniture and stacks and stacks of paperwork. If Gabriel’s weakness was human fashion, then Sandalphon’s was clearly corporate bureaucracy.</p><p>Wherein Aziraphale discovers the hell that is Heaven’s bureaucracy and the author thinly veils her opinions on the modern corporate workplace</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Was it always so cold?</em> Aziraphale thought with a shiver. He followed Sandalphon through the unfamiliar sterile white halls to an office he had not seen in ages: Angelic Resources. Inside, he observed an infinite landscape of desks and paperwork. Sandalphon paraded him past the frontline of bureaucracy to the reception desk.</p><p>“Archangel Sandalphon for the Onboarding Department, cherub” he said politely but communicating effectively how he perceived their comparative ranks.</p><p>“I’ll page them. While you wait, could you please fill out this transfer paperwork?”</p><p>“Not a transfer. A reactivation. That’s why I asked for Onboarding and not Transfers,” Sandalphon said in a clipped voice.</p><p>“Oh, dear. Ummm… We haven’t had one of those in…, well, I don’t know how long. I don’t know what form to use,” the clerk said timidly, as he realized his day was about to become rather unpleasant.</p><p>“Angelic Resources has very clearly defined responsibilities for each of its departments. Do I need to take this up with Michael?” Sandalphon smiled unpleasantly. Escorting Aziraphale around headquarters afforded him some prestige by proxy, but the unexpected pleasure of finding a process deficiency for later evaluation was quite the bonus.</p><p>Aziraphale watched the proceedings in confusion. As clever humans invented new organizational theories, management frameworks, and business practices, Heaven had reshaped its own organization, allowing each archangel their own fiefdom and reminding the lower angels of their place in the celestial hierarchy. Aziraphale had thankfully missed almost all of these developments due to his posting on Earth.</p><p>“I’m sure they have everything in place, Sandalphon. Just need a moment to collect the forms, right?” he offered kindly. The clerk looked palpably relieved to know he didn't have an equally displeased, well, whatever this one was.</p><p>“Aziraphale has developed a great deal of patience from working with humans for all these millennia. I’m sure Angelic Resources won’t need such indulgences. Tell Onboarding we are waiting. Aziraphale has many important meetings lined up. Do not delay us.” Sandalphon’s thinly veiled threat notwithstanding, the clerk had been far more affected by the mention of Aziraphale’s name.</p><p>“Oh my goodness! Aziraphale?” the shocked clerk stood quickly. “Sir, such an honor. I’ll be right back with everything you need. Welcome back, sir.” He then turned and walked directly into a filing cabinet before rushing between cubicles.</p><p>Aziraphale stared after him, utterly befuddled. What in Her name had that been about? He turned to find hundreds of cherubs staring at him and then, almost in unison, becoming very interested in papers on their desks. Deeply uncomfortable with the attention, Aziraphale searched for somewhere innocuous to look. He walked over to a tall ficus and realized with disappointment it was fake. He huffed and made a note to share that detail with Crowley at dinner. He would no doubt have a snarky comment about how if heaven was too clueless to keep the most common office plant alive then it was no wonder they never uncovered the Arrangement. Oh. Except he wouldn’t be having dinner with him. He probably wouldn’t be having dinner at all. <em>Perhaps this </em>is <em>a dreadful mistake. Maybe I can just slip away…</em> Aziraphale’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the head of Onboarding. She escorted Sandalphon and Aziraphale to a comfortable but very corporate meeting room. Aziraphale tried to keep up with the assembly line of forms requiring his sigil.</p><p>After hours, or perhaps just stultifyingly dull minutes, the process was complete. Aziraphale slipped on the lanyard with his freshly miracled ID badge and felt excessively heavier.</p><p>***</p><p>“Come along, Aziraphale!” called Sandalphon from down the hall. </p><p>Aziraphale tried not to shudder whenever Sandalphon said his name. The archangel was deferential in a most disquieting way. They continued walking along another infinite, identical, sterile hallway through headquarters. After onboarding with Angelic Resources, Sandalphon had shepherded him from meeting to meeting. First Heavenly Comms (which evidently was most definitely different from Marketing), then Animal and Human Resources, and then Celestial Change Management Leadership. After that he could no longer remember the department names except for Miracle Accounting. Aziraphale had been at first embarrassed and then indignant to see his name at the top of their list of repeat offenders. The rest had been a blur of halo charts in ecru, ivory, and eggshell along with literally never-ending Gantt charts. He was cold, peckish, and staring at yet another shade of white when he processed Sandalphon calling for him to catch up.</p><p>“You are going to be integral to the reorganization and the updating of all operating procedures. And without you, we’d be lost for defining Key Performance Indicators. We’re so glad you reconsidered, Aziraphale.” Sandalphon stopped and gestured to a door.</p><p>“And here we are. Took a couple miracles but we got you a corner office.” Sandalphon guffawed at his own joke and looked peeved when Aziraphale didn’t laugh as well. Instead, he was regarding the nameplate by the door with uncertainty: Aziraphale, Principality emeritus. Inside he found more sterile white office furniture and stacks and stacks of paperwork. If Gabriel’s weakness was human fashion, then Sandalphon’s was clearly corporate bureaucracy.</p><p>“I’ll leave you to settle in. We’ve kept your calendar light so you can get caught up. Raziel will be by a little later to discuss timetables and high-level milestones for the new field training program.” Sandalphon rubbed his hands in glee. “It’s all so exciting. And you’ll be here to witness every moment of it! I’ll catch you on the Celestial Change Management All Hands call!”</p><p>Sandalphon began to pat his jacket as Danny Kaye began to sing <em>Inchworm</em>. Pulling his HARP (heavenly agenda reminder program) out, he swiped accept so quickly, Aziraphale caught only a glimpse of what appeared to be a dreadful photo of Michael Fabricant [1]. He stepped away explaining, “I need to take this.”</p><p>Aziraphale closed the door behind Sandalphon and stared bleakly at the folders and binders piled improbably, nay miraculously, high. He considered summoning his favorite armchair, but the idea somehow sounded more depressing. The incongruity would just call constant attention to where he wasn’t. Or who he wasn’t with. <em>Now, now</em>, he thought, <em>remember you’re doing this for Her. And for Humanity. And…</em> He stared at the alabaster desk and sighed. With a snap of his fingers, the rescued bouquet appeared in a vase.</p><p> “…and for Crowley,” he confided to the mounds of paperwork staring warily at the colourful interloper. Matilda in Miracle Accounting tsked at the blip on her ticker tape.</p><p>After what already felt like an eternity of reviewing best practices in change management communication, Aziraphale would have welcomed Satan himself as an interruption, but that the knock at his door heralded Raziel was truly a delight. The Archangel of Secrets stood at the threshold, bouncing in excitement. She was shorter and softer than the other Archangels, pretty rather than beautiful. Her form drew others to her while her sweet and slightly shy demeanor made them at ease. Were there a patron saint of the reliable, warm, and just enough less pretty best friend, Raziel would have been the object of thousands of daily prayers from aspiring actresses hoping for middle-billing in a romantic comedy.</p><p>“Raziel! Come in!”</p><p>Raziel practically skipped to the chair across from Aziraphale’s desk. As she glanced around the office, her eyes came to rest on the exquisite bouquet. She squeaked and leaned in to smell the heady scent of the lavender and orange blossoms before sinking into her seat in apparent bliss.</p><p>“It’s been so long since I saw flowers. Or smelled them. I’m so glad they’re letting you bring Earth objects to Heaven!”</p><p>“Well, <em>let </em>may not be quite the right choice of words,” Aziraphale confessed, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.</p><p>“Ah. Not to worry, your secret is safe with me,” she whispered conspiratorially and grinned. “Now, shall we get down to business?”</p><p>Raziel had volunteered to lead the Curriculum and Training Development Task Force for the new Field Angel Corps mostly because she herself wanted to know more about humanity and how it had changed since she was last on Earth. She also hoped the position might finally allow her to visit humans again. Aziraphale felt sorry for her. If anyone deserved the opportunity, surely it was Raziel, he thought, but Gabriel could really hold a grudge.</p><p>Raziel walked Aziraphale through all of her ideas for preparing the Host for duties on Earth. Aziraphale was impressed with how much she had been able to learn without being granted a PITA. As their meeting time approached its end, Raziel leaned forward as if ready to pounce.</p><p>“Aziraphale, may I ask you something unrelated to the task at hand?”</p><p>“Please do.” Aziraphale welcomed the chance to talk about something besides heavenly bureaucracy. He was thoroughly unprepared for the dam about to break.</p><p>“I still can’t believe I get to work with half of the Ineffable Duo! How did you know you were doing Her will? Does it just feel right? Or tingly? How did you face down Satan?” she gushed, cheeks pink, her enthusiasm unbridled. With a star-struck expression she added shyly. “What’s he like? Crowley, that is.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s fit of coughing only partially disguised his astonishment. Utterly blindsided, he flailed about for a life preserver. “Well, Raziel. That’s quite a lot. I’m surprised you didn’t inquire about our trials!” <em>Dreadful choice of floats</em>, Aziraphale scolded himself.</p><p>“Oh, I’m curious about that, too. Archangel of Secrets, after all. But that feels like a story for a future visit,” she smiled slyly, or what would have been sly if she didn’t radiate harmlessness. “Now please, tell me about the day the world didn’t end.”</p><p>Aziraphale decided that was the least difficult topic she had suggested. In their remaining time he gave her a brief, high level, moderately redacted summary of the Armageddon that wasn’t. When his HARP chimed to remind him of the next meeting, she bounded around his desk and gave him an impulsive hug and then dashed off. Over their subsequent meetings, Aziraphale found himself divulging more about Earth and a certain demon than he might have intended, but he had no other confidant. Besides, Raziel was the Angel of Secrets not solely because of her curiosity and her ability to put others at ease; she was also a reliable <em>keeper </em>of secrets.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>[1] I originally had written “Aziraphale caught only a glimpse of what appeared to be a dreadful photo of Boris Johnson,” but given his recent hospital stay that now seems in rather poor taste. Michael Fabricant is less well known, but, oh, the hair.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale scanned the familiar shelves and piles. It should have been comforting. His precious signed first editions, his treasured collection of Infamous Bibles, the reading chair that had provided endless hours of comfort when combined with hot cocoa and a favorite novel or quarto. Instead it felt hollow, an empty carapace.</p><p>What I need is Crowley, he thought miserably. He stood still as a statue, oblivious to everything but the agonizing throb of his heart. He exhaled slowly and snapped. </p><p>Wherein Aziraphale learns the consequences of his convictions.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Part One: Chapter 5<br/>So concludes Part One</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With the newest version of the Field Angel Corps Training tucked under his arm, Aziraphale rehearsed his pitch in his head. As he neared Gabriel’s office, he heard an unpleasantly familiar voice, or buzzing, really. What in Heaven’s name were <em>they </em>doing here? From the tone, he could tell Beelzebub and Gabriel were in the midst of a heated but still civil argument. Aziraphale crept closer.</p><p>“Do you think rolling out a celestial reorganization to reflect to Her Ineffable Plan is going to make a difference downstairs? I need something to strike fear into my lot. You’ve had more than enough time, Gabriel. How have you learned nothing about what they are? About their immunity to holy water and hellfire?”</p><p>“If you’re so desperate, Beez, why don’t you do your own investigating? Go ask Crowley.”</p><p>“You know that Crowley has no interest in Hell. And I’d have a riot on my handzz if he showed up. Listen, obviously there needzz to be a war. But if She’s not going to make it clear when, we need to keep control of 10 million angelzz and 10 million demonzz. We need a show of power. We need immunity.”</p><p>As the silence stretched out, Aziraphale worried Beelzebub would storm out and discover him there. He was about to retreat when Gabriel finally spoke.</p><p>“Sandalphon believes it is because they spent so much time in close proximity over the millennia. Specifically, on Earth.”</p><p>“So we need to go native by spending time together on Earth?” they buzzed with incredulity. “Unacceptable.”</p><p>“It’s the only decent theory we have.”</p><p>“It’s still stupid.” Aziraphale could hear them pacing. “Fine. I get to choose the first location. Death Valley. We’ll get you used to heat one way or another.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s breath caught as he considered how quickly they might determine their immunities were a ruse. In the abstract, he knew their secret might not last forever, but the awful possibility Crowley could be taken unawares soon was a fresh blow. Thanks to his consulting work, he felt some degree of security, but Hell had nether love nor need for Crowley. The subtle drop in pressure and whiff of sulfur told him the Prince of Hell had left. He retreated silently along the hall and rushed to his office, thoughts whirring apace. He shut the door tightly, dashed to the desk, and reached for the drawer under the ever-fresh bouquet. He hadn’t touched the cell phone from Crowley since he brought it up during one of his early relocation-approved trips to the bookshop. <em>Clever Crowley</em>, he thought, grateful the demon had enchanted it with an everlasting battery. He laboriously typed in 1-9-4-1 to unlock the phone. He clicked on the snake icon, and the phone speed dialed Crowley’s mobile. Ring. Ring. “The number you are calling…” He tried again. Ring. “The number you are calling….” A third time. Had Aziraphale better understood the intricacies of these devices, he’d have known Crowley was refusing his calls. He switched to the flat’s number.</p><p>“You know what to do. Do it with style”</p><p>“Crowley? Are you there? Ummm… Righty-oh.” Aziraphale hadn’t considered what might be safe to leave as a recording. After several more moments of silence, he gave up and disconnected the call. With a snap, he was in the center of his bookshop. He would simply fill out another relocation travel form. He scanned the room for something he could justify fetching. The gramophone? Too big, it would trigger additional paperwork. He moved to the back room where he spied a half empty bottle of Talisker that Crowley had produced some time ago. Underneath, he found take-out menus for his favorite restaurants and bakeries. <em>Plausible training material for field operations</em>, he thought and tucked the pamphlets in his overcoat. He paused briefly before taking the whisky as well. Given the recent turn of events, he could use the fortitude. He snapped and materialized just outside the door to Crowley’s flat. He rapped first quietly then more insistently on the door. Fearful of drawing attention from the neighbors, he miracled the lock and let himself in.</p><p>“Crowley? Are you here?”</p><p>He reached for the light. Nothing looked amiss per se, but the flat had the lifeless feel of a summer cottage closed up for winter. He sniffed at the stale air and then listened intently for any sound. He padded softly down the hall cautiously till he came to Crowley’s plants. A not insignificant layer of dust coated their leaves, still green solely out of terror.</p><p>“Oh, my lovelies. How long has he been gone? You’ve done so well on your own.” Their leaves turned subtly toward the source of encouragement. “Let’s get you some water. He’ll be very proud of your lush leaves.” </p><p>A few minutes later, as he returned the mister to the sink, Aziraphale finally thought to look at a calendar. <em>Oh, gracious!</em> How was it six months since he had gone to Heaven? It couldn’t be possible. He pulled out his phone and confirmed the date. His knees buckled. He hadn’t planned to be gone so long. They hadn’t even had a proper goodbye. He absentmindedly rubbed his knuckles where Crowley had so gently kissed them and replayed their fight in his mind. No wonder the demon wasn’t answering his phone. Of course, he was angry. Aziraphale never intended to hurt him. How had he made such a mess of things?</p><p>First things first, he scolded himself. How to get a warning to him? He paced through the flat, noticing for the first time Crowley’s many and varied souvenirs. A Roman cup circa Caligula. A handkerchief Aziraphale thought he had lost in the 17th century. The program for a community production of <em>As You Like It</em> that they had seen in Soho. <em>The funny ones!</em> Aziraphale dashed back to Crowley’s meager collection of books. He gathered pen, paper, and the Complete Comedies of William Shakespeare. In his distinctive flowery script, he wrote, “Viola should be wary of Malcolm’s buzzing. Take care.” He slipped the note into the appropriate page of Twelfth Night and left it by the ansaphone. <em>Please come home and see it</em>, he prayed. He surveyed the flat a final time, looking in vain for some place to hang hope. He clasped the whisky to his chest. With a snap he was gone.</p><p>***</p><p>Many dozens of meetings later, Aziraphale slumped into his desk chair, exhausted and heartsick. The now dreaded sound of his HARP signaled his next meeting. Aziraphale sighed in relief when Raziel stepped into the open doorway.</p><p>“You look dreadful, Aziraphale.” The soft note of concern in her golden voice nearly broke him; her warmth offered the first respite from his unending dread that Crowley had not received his warning.</p><p>“Nothing that a chat with you won’t fix, my dear.” He forced a smile and rose to meet her. “How are the training environments coming?”</p><p>“Nearly done. I thought we could walk through one while we review the timelines.” He nodded and followed her through the maze of identical hallways to a large door marked <em>Archangels Only</em>. She pushed open the door and gestured for him to enter.</p><p>“What do you think?” she asked eagerly. Aziraphale gasped. The former conference hall had been transformed into a park. A specific park. St. James Park.</p><p>“You said that humans like to ‘people watch’ in parks. I figured it’d be a good place for new field angels to practice inconspicuously,” she offered brightly.</p><p>“Very clever. And this particular park, my dear?” Aziraphale forced the words out.</p><p>“Oh, good! It’s recognizable? I went through the Earth Observation Files and picked one that you and Crowley seemed to like. An homage to the two beings who have realigned us to Her Ineffable Plan.” Raziel looked so pleased. Aziraphale swallowed back the bile rising in his throat and pretended to inspect the pond.</p><p>“Can I run through some of the artifacts you brought for the field agent curriculum?” she asked brightly.</p><p>“Of course,” replied Aziraphale, thankful for the distraction. He continued to explore the environment, the charade allowing him to avoid eye contact.</p><p>“I’m amazed at the variety of foods that humans have developed. I really hope my PITA is approved soon. I want to taste everything! I just don’t understand the notes on these.” She passed an open take-out menu to Aziraphale and pointed to the scrawled notes covering the margins. Aziraphale stopped abruptly to take the other papers from her. He hadn’t examined the menus before giving them to Raziel for the training program. In the dense marginalia, he saw where Crowley had noted how spicy to request his favorite vindaloos, which sushi restaurant had the best uni and provided real wasabi, what pastry was best at each bakery, how early he could coax Aziraphale’s favorite patisserie to open despite the printed hours, the vacation dates for each establishment that took a summer holiday, and on and on. His eyes clouded with tears as he beheld Crowley’s meticulously crafted treatise on <em>The Care and Feeding of Aziraphale.</em> A pit in his core ached, pulling his chest tighter and tighter, wringing the breath out of him. He clenched his fist to his heart. <em>Is this why they call it heartbreak</em>, he wondered.</p><p>“Aziraphale, you look ill. What’s wrong?” She carefully ushered him to a bench.</p><p>“I’m just tired, my dear. So much to do” he offered weakly. </p><p>“They can’t expect you to keep this pace of meetings. You’ve spent the last six millennia on a day and night schedule, not our non-stop march. And you’ve remained in your corporation. No wonder you’re exhausted. I’m taking this up with Gabriel. No, not a word.“</p><p>Had he shaken his head?  If he had, the act was subconscious. The broken heartbeats. The pounding ache in his chest. They drowned out everything else.</p><p>“This simply won’t do. You’re too important,” Raziel continued, picking up steam as she took stock of Aziraphale’s wretched state. “We’re canceling your next day of meetings. Hmmmm… roughly four of our meetings per London workday? Never mind. I’ll figure it out. Let’s get you to your office. No, your bookshop. That’s what you need.” Raziel guided the dazed shell of Aziraphale through the halls to an official transport office.</p><p>“I need papers. I can’t just send him down. There are rules!” </p><p>“I’m an Archangel, that is all you need, cherub.”</p><p>Aziraphale was dimly aware of Raziel arguing with the angel on duty. He barely registered the crack of lightning as she produced an official Archangelic Task Order to satisfy the attendant.</p><p>“Stay as long as you need. I’ll take care of Gabriel. Ring me if you need me.” She hugged him affectionately and in an instant he was standing in his shuttered bookshop. </p><p>He scanned the familiar shelves and piles. It should have been comforting. His precious signed first editions, his treasured collection of Infamous Bibles, the reading chair that had provided endless hours of comfort when combined with hot cocoa and a favorite novel or quarto. Instead it felt hollow, an empty carapace.</p><p><em> What I need is Crowley, </em> he thought miserably. He stood still as a statue, oblivious to everything but the agonizing throb of his heart. He exhaled slowly and snapped. </p><p>Aziraphale noted the scent of sulfur as he knocked loudly on Crowley’s door. Inpatient, he snapped to miracle the lock and let himself in. He had barely grasped the doorknob before yelping and jerking his hand away. It was burning. With his uninjured hand he cautiously tapped the doorframe and gasped at the sudden grief roaring through him. </p><p>Crowley had locked him out. He had desecrated the threshold, blocking any ethereal being from entry. </p><p>Crowley had never locked him out before. Ever. </p><p>The rejection stung far more than his hand. He stared at the blisters forming and felt a spark of indignation.<em> How could he? I’ve never hurt him,</em> he thought bewildered. <em>Oh. Oh dear.</em></p><p>Aziraphale had never hurt Crowley’s corporation, but now the numerous times he had rejected him flooded his mind.</p><p>
  <em> I can’t turn my back when they are finally embracing kindness. They need me.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’s not my friend. We don’t even know each other. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Do you know what trouble I’d be in if they knew I’d been fraternizing? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You go too fast for me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We are not friends. We are mortal enemies. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There is no “our side.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> May you be forgiven. </em>
</p><p>“I’m the unforgivable one,” he choked out<em>. </em>He stared mournfully at the door.<em> At least this means he must have found my warning. I hope.</em></p><p>Defeated, he retreated to the bookshop, staggered to the backroom, and collapsed on the sofa. He drank in the ever so faint smell of Crowley as a sob shook his entire body. For the first time in his existence, Aziraphale cried himself to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You mentioned an invitation?”<br/>“Yes. The Youngs are having a party for the children. A level results day was last week, and they are hosting a celebration. Adam was hoping you would come. Plantains?” Madam Tracy passed a dish.<br/>“My goodness, I can’t believe it’s been that long already?” mused Aziraphale. He was surprised but not shocked. Over the past seven Earth years, Aziraphale had thrown himself into his Heavenly “temporary” consulting gig. The irony of proposing, developing, and then training on the rules of engagement for a place he now avoided was not lost on him.</p>
<p>Wherein an unexpected call rekindles hope</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Part Two: Chapter 6</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Congratulations to our first class of field angels in our brand-new Field Angel Corps. I am so proud of you. I’m sure She is proud of you. And you should be proud, too. You are about to journey into a new world for you. The world of humans may be silly and complicated, but rest assured the Archangelic Leadership Team has every confidence in you. To think it was a mere seven years ago, we began our evaluation of the Field Angel program. Sandalphon, Raziel, Aziraphale, please step forward. What you have accomplished here is miraculous.” He chuckled at his own joke. Sandalphon joined in heartily and clapped him on the shoulder. The corner of Raziel’s mouth twitched into the slightest smirk as she exchanged amused glances with Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“Sandalphon has been tireless in his support and management. I’m not sure you even need me these days!” Again, he laughed at his own joke, but this time Raziel and Aziraphale exchanged looks of concern. Sandalphon had been ingratiating himself with all the other archangels. Change has always been difficult for celestial beings, but doubly so for archangels; so much of their identity was derived from their position in the celestial hierarchy and change brought that into question. Sandalphon happily assumed responsibility for every change management task someone wished to avoid. Despite this conspicuous earnestness, Raziel and Aziraphale had found no other archangel equally circumspect in their assessment of his enthusiasm.</p>
<p>“Raziel, you have shown great dedication to Her Ineffable Plan by preparing this class to interact with Humans in accordance with Her desires. And Aziraphale, we are so glad you have returned home to us. Your expertise has been invaluable. Thank you, all. Sandalphon, the audience is yours.” Gabriel stepped down from the podium to allow Sandalphon to take his place. Aziraphale clucked at Sandalphon’s vanity when he miracled an extra step to make him appear as tall as Gabriel. As if anyone really cared about their celestial forms. </p>
<p>Raziel looked sincerely happy for all the field angels. Aziraphale couldn’t understand how she still hadn’t gotten her PITA approved, but Michael always was a stickler for details, and she was personally approving most forms and proposals. Despite all the endless meetings, the infuriating minutiae required by Acquisitions, the petty bureaucracy of Miracle Accounting, and those ridiculous Key Performance Metrics (Aziraphale never did understand what Sandalphon was on about), he was satisfied with the outcome. These field angels were sensitive and kind. Most importantly, they understood humanity well enough to be helpful. Aziraphale still blushed in sympathetic embarrassment when he thought of Gabriel’s visitation to Mary two millennia earlier.</p>
<p>His memory of that dreadful incident was interrupted by a ringing in his ears. Aziraphale couldn’t identify the source of the sound. Slowly it transformed into a voice. A familiar voice. Madame Tracy?</p>
<p>Aziraphale whispered an excuse to Raziel and then slipped out a side door. He consciously relaxed, cleared his thoughts, and followed the voice in his mind.</p>
<p>
  <em>Mr. Aziraphale? This is medium Madam Tracy. I hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time. We weren’t sure how to reach you and I was hoping we might still share a connection from when the world didn’t end. Adam was hoping I might deliver an invitation. There’s a party next week.</em>
</p>
<p>Aziraphale smiled as he felt her warm voice rush through him. <em>Madam Tracy! That would be delightful. How is the lad?</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Starting college next year. Time flies, doesn’t it? We’re having dinner in a bit. Would you like to join us?  We’re all at Jasmine Cottage. We can catch you up on the past seven years.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Yes, I believe I can join you shortly. Ah, where should I, uh</em>…</p>
<p>
  <em>Anathema said you can land in the cottage foyer. She figured you would prefer to avoid unwanted attention.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Very kind of her. Best get a wiggle on then. See you in two shakes</em>. With a blink and a shiver, he ended the connection. Aziraphale just barely opened the door and glanced back at the auditorium. He was pleased to see he had missed the entirety of Sandalphon’s remarks. The class rose as Sandalphon formally announced the completion of their training. A moment later they miracled their halos up in the air, befuddling Gabriel and delighting Raziel with the nod to human commencement ceremonies. Aziraphale smiled at his only friend. Thanks to her, Field Angels wouldn’t be startling people into traffic or causing heart attacks. More importantly, they would avoid all engagement with a certain redheaded demon, a bittersweet victory worth the loneliness and drudgery. Nevertheless, the relief of securing Crowley’s safety did little to temper the ache in his chest every time he thought of his demon. <em>Not mine</em>, he admonished himself<em>. At least not anymore</em>.</p>
<p>His thoughts were interrupted by two angels shyly approaching him. The shorter one looked like he might faint as they ventured closer.</p>
<p>“We wanted to thank you, sir, for making all this happen,” began the taller as he tried to keep from hyperventilating. The other nodded. “We’ll always be the lucky ones who got half of the Ineffable Duo as an instructor. An honour, truly.”</p>
<p>“No, no. The honour is all mine. I’m sure She will be very pleased with your work.” They requested a blessing, and he reluctantly obliged. He was still uncomfortable with the near reverence from some of the Host. He wore his celebrity status among the angels like an ill-fitting suit. Indeed, his own suit fit quite poorly as well. Without a steady diet of crêpes and other delights, Aziraphale had slimmed considerably. Gabriel had been pleased, at least.</p>
<p>He waved to Raziel and pantomimed his need to leave. She nodded encouragingly, and he again thanked Her for providing him with one companion. He retreated to his office to find a suitable offering for dinner. His heavenly larder consisted solely of a vast stash of cocoa and a modest collection of alcohol. He retrieved a bottle of red Bordeaux Supérieur, straightened his bowtie, and with a snap he was standing in Jasmine Cottage.</p>
<p>In many respects, the cottage was relatively unchanged from when Anathema had first moved into it: the same Formica countertops in the kitchen, the same beautiful rose bushes in the garden, and the horseshoe still hung over the front stoop. He turned around and was immediately met by a smiling Madame Tracy, a distracted Newton Pulsifer, and an only mildly surprised two year old swinging from his arms.</p>
<p>“Mr. Aziraphale! I’m so glad you could hear me. We weren’t sure if it would work,” Madame Tracy said as she hugged him warmly and added a kiss on the cheek. “And you brought a lovely bottle of wine. You remember Newt, of course.” Aziraphale kneeled and extended his hand as Madam Tracy continued, “And this adorable creature is Sophia Rose. Anathema’s in the kitchen. She said dinner’s almost ready. I’ll wake Mr. Shadwell; he fell asleep in front of the telly again. Follow me.”</p>
<p>A few moments later, three humans, one toddler, and an angel were seated around the modest table in Jasmine Cottage as Anathema brought in a large pan of paella.</p>
<p>“It smells heavenly, my dear.” It truly did. Aziraphale hadn’t smelled something so delicious since… No, best not to go too far along that train of thought.  “You mentioned an invitation?”</p>
<p>“Yes. The Youngs are having a party for the children. A level results day was last week, and they are hosting a celebration. Adam was hoping you would come. Plantains?” Madam Tracy passed a dish.</p>
<p>“My goodness, I can’t believe it’s been that long already?” mused Aziraphale. He was surprised but not shocked. Over the past seven Earth years, Aziraphale had thrown himself into his Heavenly “temporary” consulting gig. The irony of proposing, developing, and then training on the rules of engagement for a place he now avoided was not lost on him.</p>
<p>“Results day brought good news, and they’re all settled for college. Adam’s off to Oxford! It will be strange not having them pop over all the time,” Anathema shared with a touch of melancholy. “Pepper and Wensleydale are excellent babysitters. Sophia will miss them”</p>
<p>The group settled into an easy discussion of the past seven years. The home Madam Tracy and Mr. Shadwell had moved into soon after the world didn’t end. Newt’s work as an “off the grid” consultant and tester. Mr. Tyler’s resolute suspicions about the woman he continued to call “the American tourist” despite her seven years of residence.</p>
<p>“Anathema, I was surprised you two are still here. Not just in Tadfield but still here at Jasmine Cottage. I thought you were renting?” Aziraphale inquired politely.</p>
<p>“Oh, Crowley bought it for us as a wedding gift. Said he didn’t know what to do with all the money from the . . ouch,” Newt exclaimed while Anathema smiled in a way that said “I most definitely didn’t kick my idiot husband under the table.”</p>
<p>“I see,” Aziraphale replied, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “And do you, uh, see Crowley often?”</p>
<p>“Where Uncle Cwowee?” asked Sophia with a hopeful expression.</p>
<p>Madam Tracy and Anathema exchanged a series of complicated looks before Madam Tracy ventured into the awkward silence.</p>
<p>“You’ll see him next week, little one,” Madam Tracy answered and then turned to Aziraphale. “He likes to check in when he’s in London. He’s been in America a lot. He said he was freelancing. Thought he’d explore how to keep his wiles on the bleeding edge, was it?”</p>
<p>“Yup, he said drones and automated cars were the next frontiers in aggravation. He didn’t want to miss out on a chance to get in on the ground floor,” Anathema added. She unsuccessfully tried to suppress a giggle as she continued. “He also thought he could do something to mess up everyone’s payment transactions on our smartphones, but it kind of got away from him.”</p>
<p>“Do tell.” Aziraphale couldn’t help his curiosity.</p>
<p>“Well, he wanted to randomly adjust people’s bank account balances by a few pennies here and there in order to drive them crazy when nothing would reconcile. He was an angel investor,” Anathema could hardly contain her laughter at Aziraphale’s bewildered look. She took a moment to catch her breath before resuming. “He gave a financial app start-up some investment money and then messed with their code. The problem is that when they couldn’t figure out how to fix it, they turned it into a feature. They called it ‘Take a penny, leave a penny.’ And now everyone is using Taplap for their online payments since you can choose what charity gets a random number of pence. Crowley made a fortune and is too mortified to tell anyone about it!”</p>
<p>The entire table was in hysterics at this point. Aziraphale couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard. <em>Humans are such wonders</em>, he observed. <em>So quick to laugh and love. Admirable, really.</em></p>
<p>Madam Tracy saw the subtle change in his smile and stood. “Newt, why don’t you and Mr. Shadwell take Sophia for a stroll to fetch some ice cream while the three of us take care of the dishes?”</p>
<p>As soon as Shadwell and Newt dutifully headed out with the toddler in tow, Madam Tracy turned to Aziraphale sitting primly at her side. She covered his hand with her own.</p>
<p>“You’re sad, my dear. When you’re here beside me, I can still feel you. Not like when we were, um, together, in my body I mean. But I can feel how heavy your heart is.”</p>
<p>“Your aura is dull, too” Anathema added with concern. They both looked expectantly at Aziraphale, but he remained still, voiceless. Anathema continued, “He misses you, you know. He doesn’t say anything, of course, but he’ll ask if Adam’s had any good influences lately that he needs to balance out. We let him think he’s being subtle.”</p>
<p>“Dear, I don’t mean to pry, but Anathema and I thought maybe you and Crowley could make up at Adam’s party?” Madam Tracy searched Aziraphale’s face for some kind of deeper truth.</p>
<p>Aziraphale startled at the blunt suggestion. He unclasped his hands, sliding them out from Madam Tracy’s, and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Then he surprised even himself by quietly confessing, “I don’t think he’d like that. I shouldn’t have run out on him. Unforgivable - that’s what I am, I’m afraid.”</p>
<p>“Oh, my dear. I doubt that very much. You’ve known each other for, well, forever, right?” Madame Tracy leaned over to hug Aziraphale. “Everyone has fights. You argue, you take some time to cool down, and then you find your way back to each other.”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid it went too far this time.” Aziraphale swallowed hard and then stood and turned to Anathema. “A truly lovely dinner, my dear. Thank you ever so much. I should let you all enjoy the rest of your evening. Allow me to take care of the dishes.” With a snap the table and counters were clean.</p>
<p>“You will come to the party, won’t you? Adam will be so disappointed if you don’t.” Madam Tracy stood as well for a proper hug goodbye.</p>
<p>“Can’t have that now, can we? I promise to attend. Have a good evening!” After a last hug from Anathema, he disappeared in a flash of light.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Aziraphale walked slowly to his office, a small spark of hope struggling to stay alight amidst the currents of seven years of longing and millennia of regrets swirling in his chest. He absentmindedly traced the crescent moon scar on his right palm where he had grasped Crowley’s desecrated doorknob. He could have minimized its appearance, but the brand seemed a befitting punishment for his past cowardice and cruelty, a constant reminder of his choices and their costs. Arriving at his office door, he gripped its knob tightly and leaned into the pain as he turned it.</p>
<p>He settled into his desk chair and gazed at Crowley’s bouquet. The lavender and orange blossoms retained a hint of their lush scent. The blue hyacinth stood as full and fresh as the day he retrieved them.  For once, he mentally pushed away the familiar hurt and disappointment, instead gently holding the memory of their kiss in his mind. Eyes closed, he remembered the feel of Crowley’s angular hips under his hands, the weight of his lithe body pressed against him, the wonder that a demon was capable of such love, let alone his ecstasy in drowning in it. He opened the drawer and pulled out some of the menus he had “forgotten” to return to Raziel for training materials. Crowley had taken care of him, protected him, rescued him countless times, all without reward for millennia. Was his own attachment so weak it couldn’t survive seven years of absence?  Perhaps Madam Tracy was right. Perhaps all was not lost. At the least, it was worth fighting for.</p>
<p>A rapid knock at his door drew him out of his thoughts. With a flick of his wrist, he gestured the door open and revealed an ecstatic Raziel tightly gripping an identification card.</p>
<p>“I got it! They approved my PITA!” Raziel exclaimed. “Michael even apologized for how long it took. Said she’s been buried under paperwork.”</p>
<p>“Congratulations, Raziel! And it appears you have no limits on it,” he replied, inspecting the small print. “What would you think of a celebratory trip in a few days? I’ve been invited to a party in Tadfield. Would you like to join me?”</p>
<p>“Really?” She blinked repeatedly. “Yes, yes, yes, yes!”</p>
<p>Aziraphale felt a flash of guilt given his ulterior motive of wanting support in facing Crowley, but the sincerity of her excitement assuaged his conscience.</p>
<p>“What kind of party? Do I need a costume? Will there be clowns? A band? A scavenger hunt? A magician? One of those bowls people put keys in?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale doubled over in laughter. “Oh, my dear. Nothing so fanciful. Or scandalous! Adam’s parents are hosting a simple celebration in honour of the children heading off to university. Friends and family. Definitely no costumes, but I’m afraid human fashion is not my specialty. You could ask Gabriel. He loves the clothes, and he certainly seems to be taking lots of trips down lately.”</p>
<p>“Good idea! Maybe I can catch him now. He’s probably still with the Field Angels. Thank you, Aziraphale. You’ve been so kind to me. I know the other archangels have never really forgiven me for the Book of Knowledge”</p>
<p>“I understand better than you can imagine,” Aziraphale replied somberly. The past seven years would have been unbearable without her. “You’re a good friend, Raziel. Thank you.”</p>
<p>“You, too.” Raziel met his eyes and correctly read that his change in tone was not an invitation to discuss it further. “Now to find Gabriel. Send the party time to my HARP!”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For Persuasion fans, Part One was obviously the set up. Part Two covers the story through the unfortunate events in Lyme.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He couldn’t expect Crowley to forgive him for any of it, this insult or the past seven years. But if he didn’t do something, Crowley might never speak to him again. Crowley’s face betrayed no emotion, offered no hint of a safe harbor for confession or apology. Crowley once thought Aziraphale was brave - brave enough that he made sure to exude it when masquerading as the angel post-Apocanope. He hoped Crowley had been right. Aziraphale squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. </p>
<p>Wherein the reader must endure both misunderstandings and a cliffhanger</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Part Two: Chapter Seven</p>
<p>Thank you, thank you, thank you for the comments and support! First time writer here. I was monstrously nervous (and excited, to be honest) when I posted the first chapter. It blows my mind every time I see the subscription numbers tick up. Love to you all!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale stared at his reflection in the window of the transport office. He adjusted his bow tie nervously and frowned. His waistcoat hid some of the bagginess of his shirt, but the excess fabric of his trousers was harder to disguise. As most of his clothing was close to 200 years old, he was loath to have it altered for fear of irreparable damage, but he now regretted the poor fit on his slimmed down frame. <em>Too late to change anything</em>, he concluded. <em>Perhaps too late for quite a lot, really</em>. He was only one heart palpitation shy of losing his nerve and reconsidering the entire outing when Raziel bounded into the room. She had chosen a light grey fit and flare dress that wouldn’t have looked at all out of place on Audrey Hepburn in <em>Funny Face</em>, which made her by far the more modern of the two.</p>
<p>“Do I look alright?” she asked, twirling.</p>
<p>“Charming, my dear. The color suits you. Gabriel does have a good eye for this kind of thing,” he reassured her. He looked closer at her golden curls. “And is that a grey tartan ribbon in your hair?”</p>
<p>“You said tartan was stylish.” She winked at him. Gabriel had hated the addition, which had only solidified her selection.</p>
<p>“Shall we?” Aziraphale crooked his elbow and she slipped her arm through enthusiastically.</p>
<p>A moment after he nodded to the angel on duty, they materialized in the foyer of Jasmine Cottage where Anathema, Newt, and Sophia Rose were awaiting their arrival. They warmly welcomed the celestial beings and explained a summer cold would be keeping Madam Tracy and Mr. Shadwell from joining. After proper introductions to Raziel, they set about gathering a few toys for Sophia before heading out.</p>
<p>Fellow keepers of secret knowledge, Raziel and Anathema immediately recognized each other as kindred spirits and fell into easy conversation. Raziel was thrilled to speak to Agnes Nutter’s descendant, and after a seven-year sabbatical from being a professional descendant, Anathema found revisiting the prophecies unexpectedly comforting. Aziraphale and Newt trailed behind with Sophia on the short walk to Hogsback Lane. Sophia’s bubbly narration of the scenery to the blanket-draped stuffed animal clutched to her chest provided Aziraphale a welcome distraction from the butterflies in his chest. Rather, it did until he realized the treasured stuffie was a plush black snake with a red belly. Aziraphale thought of all the times he had observed Crowley interact with children. How gentle and indulgent he was when he thought no one was watching. <em>How was I blind to all the evidence that Crowley can love?</em> His heart ached as he again revisited what he had refused seven years ago.</p>
<p>A few minutes later, they arrived at the Young’s backyard. In addition to the Them and their parents, school friends and local villagers filled the garden. A large white tent housed a modest buffet and provided both relief from remnants of the sun and insurance against rain. Even after the apocalypse that wasn’t, Adam’s love continued to suffuse Tadfield, and Aziraphale savored the easy warmth of it. Anathema had taken Raziel to a bench in the garden and was animatedly pointing at various objects. Sophia Rose bounced on Raziel’s lap, and from a distance Aziraphale wasn’t sure if Anathema was explaining balloons to Sophia or Raziel.</p>
<p>A chorus of laughter by the punch bowl drew Aziraphale’s attention from his friend. There was Crowley, red hair aflame in the sun, standing between Adam and Pepper. His head was thrown back in relaxed laughter, exposing the stretch of neck Aziraphale vividly remembered kissing before their argument. His gaze lingered on the slim hips in ridiculously tight black jeans. Feeling utterly unprepared for eye contact, he quickly turned away to catch his breath. When he couldn’t calm his trembling hands, he retreated to the garden bench to join Anathema and Raziel.</p>
<p>Crowley was pleased that the sunny day and the party’s outdoor location afforded him ample excuse to wear his sunglasses. He had watched Aziraphale’s arrival in stealth, or so he thought. In truth, Adam and Pepper had waited two solid minutes for Crowley to resume his rant about how the Bishop’s exorcism at Kassam Stadium had kept him from seeing Elton John twenty years ago[1].</p>
<p>The angel looked tired and pale. Crowley bristled at Heaven wearing him down with work. On closer inspection, he saw how loosely Aziraphale’s clothing hung from his frame. The loss of his soft curves shocked Crowley. Concern for Aziraphale’s well-being mingled with a renewed indignation that he had chosen <em>that</em> over their side, over <em>him</em>. The obviously celestial plus one wasn’t helping matters. Who was that petite blonde with him?</p>
<p>The sting of Aziraphale’s rejection had not diminished over the years; the wound simply joined all the others collected and repressed over the centuries. Inevitable rejection by the angel was a lesson Crowley was unable to learn. He could no more leave well enough alone than the moth could resist the flame. He slid between partygoers toward the bench.</p>
<p>“Hello, Aziraphale,” Crowley greeted from just behind Aziraphale’s left shoulder before adding pointedly, “Who’s your friend?”</p>
<p>“Crowley! Ah, umm, yes,” stammered Aziraphale. Raziel jumped up, glowing with excitement, and extended her hand to Crowley. Aziraphale forced the words from his mouth, “Crowley, this is Raziel, the…”</p>
<p>“Archangel of Secrets,” finished Crowley, suddenly much more interested. “I thought you were stuck upstairs permanently. Careful. Wouldn’t want to be seen fraternizing with a demon if you’re still on probation.”</p>
<p>“Oh, my goodness. I can’t believe I’m standing in front of the Ineffable Duo. The new field angels will be so envious!” Raziel’s gushing took the demon completely by surprise.</p>
<p>“We have achieved a degree of celebrity among the Host, Crowley.” Aziraphale explained. Despite the painful awkwardness, he found himself smiling at the familiar arched eyebrow above the sunglasses. He basked in the demon’s bemused look, the flash of attention reminding him just how much he’d missed that smirk, those lips. Flushed, Aziraphale tried to regain his composure, “I trust you’ve been well…”</p>
<p>“Uncle Cwowee!” Sophia’s delight outshone even Raziel’s. Crowley scooped her up and tossed her into the air before catching her in an obviously well-practiced swinging motion that drew hysterical giggles. Aziraphale’s heart swelled as he took in the child’s joy. Crowley then crouched down and listened in earnest as she recounted her day, or rather the “deets of the day” as Crowley had long ago coached her to say. He then picked up the balloon from earlier and snapped his fingers. The balloon floated just out of reach, leading Sophia toward Newt and Dog.</p>
<p>“She’ll be able to catch it periodically, and it’ll keep her in the safe parts of the garden – no electrical cords or ponds,” Crowley explained in an aside to Anathema.</p>
<p>“A modified Tantalus spell?” asked Raziel.</p>
<p>Despite himself, Crowley smiled. “Well, aren’t you the clever one. So, is this your first trip down?”</p>
<p>“Yes! I got my approval a few days ago, and I could hardly wait to feel Earth under my feet again.”</p>
<p>“A few days? Good for you. Some angels can go months without even thinking about the world down here. Have you tasted anything yet? Let me take you to the buffet. I’ll make you a plate of the best morsels. Anything you like.” Crowley offered his arm, and Raziel happily took it, pausing only a moment to mouth a thank you to Aziraphale.</p>
<p>Aziraphale watched as the pair strolled to the tent, Crowley’s hips swiveling in time with the swing of Raziel’s skirt. He continued to stare until they disappeared amongst the other guests. With a pained expression, he whispered, “What just happened?”</p>
<p>Anathema put her arm around his shoulder and squeezed sympathetically. “Give it some time. He’s still hurt. But he misses you terribly.”</p>
<p>“You see him more often than you implied, don’t you?” Aziraphale hoped a yes might mean she could tell him how to right things.</p>
<p>“Not at first, but after a couple years in Silicon Valley, he started coming by more regularly. I think he got bored. Or maybe, it didn’t distract him enough anymore. He said he’d take a hundred-year nap if he thought it was safe, but he didn’t trust Heaven and Hell to leave him alone. At some point, he started to worry Hell might try to get to him through his human contacts. I suspect he bought us the cottage so we’d stay close to Adam – easier to keep an eye on us when we’re all in one place. Tracy and Shadwell’s bungalow isn’t too far either.” Anathema paused and lowered her voice. “His aura was balled up so tightly around him, like he was afraid to let anyone get close to him. He’s better now. Especially with Sophia. Did I tell you he suggested her name?”</p>
<p>“She appears to have him wrapped around her little finger, as they say,” Aziraphale mused. “I’m glad for it.”</p>
<p>“Me, too. Now why don’t we find Adam. He’s been looking forward to seeing you.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Crowley steered Raziel to the buffet and patiently explained every item in detail. When he realized he was recommending all of Aziraphale’s favorites, he admonished himself. Eventually, the level of detail in his descriptions aroused irritation in the logjam of guests behind them. He snarled that she had severe food allergies.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Crowley. It was kind of you to diffuse their impatience,” said Raziel as he led her to a table occupied by a couple who suddenly very much wanted some punch.</p>
<p>“Don’t say that. Demons don’t do kind,” Crowley barked. Her laugh only aggravated him further.</p>
<p>“You’re no more a typical demon than he’s a typical angel. I wonder if you two are closer to what She meant for us to be.” Raziel looked over at Aziraphale chatting with Adam and Anathema, her adoration written plainly on her face. “He’s remarkable. The world down here is messy, beautifully messy, but chaotic, overwhelming. Somehow, he navigates all of it without losing sight of Her love. The Archangels have a faithful, obedient, uncomplicated Host of angels and they can’t walk anywhere near such a compassionate path.”</p>
<p>“The silly thing constantly worries if he’s done the right thing,” Crowley said more to himself than to her. He resented the soft warmth settling in his chest. Aziraphale had abandoned him, gone scampering off to Heaven barely a week after the world didn’t end.  He clawed at his wounds, desperate to uncover enough anger to evict the more dangerous feelings trying to bloom again.</p>
<p>“Exactly. The others were so sure of themselves, but their Great Plan wasn’t Her Ineffable Plan. Only you two could see that.” Raziel turned back to Crowley. “How did you know? For eons before the Garden, I recorded Her words in the Book of Knowledge, but I couldn’t see it. Could only a demon and an angel together learn the truth? Did you need each other to solve the puzzle?”</p>
<p>“Ngk.” Crowley blinked. Raziel studied the demon’s face, noting how carefully he kept his sunglasses over his eyes, how deliberate his air of indifference.</p>
<p>“You’re the only demon who’s been here since the beginning. Was it lonely? How did you know you could work with an angel?” Raziel finally paused for answers.</p>
<p>“Obviously, you should have been the Archangel of Questions,” Crowley muttered. He raised his arms in an affected stretch as he considered the odd creature in front of him. She had none of Gabriel’s pompous self-importance nor Michael’s self-righteousness nor Sandalphon’s barely contained cruelty. She reminded him of only one other celestial being. He looked over his sunglasses toward Aziraphale and for a moment their eyes met. Crowley saw pain and then a flash of jealousy that struck a painful blow to his chest. Oh. That adoration must be reciprocated. He couldn’t really blame the angel. Raziel was definitely unlike any of the other archangels he had known. Stupid, really to think he wouldn’t move on. Raziel’s voice called him back from the pit where he was rapidly sinking.</p>
<p>“How do you think I collect my secrets? Most secrets come with self-loathing. A little angelic love is like a dish of milk and warm blanket to a stray cat. I just make the safe space and ask a question.”</p>
<p>“You’re a lot more dangerous than you look, Raziel.” Crowley wasn’t sure if he admired or feared her. The correct answer was both.</p>
<p>“Nah, I’m harmless. If I shared what people confided in me, they wouldn’t be secrets anymore. Besides, confession really is good for the soul.”</p>
<p>“Nothing’s good for my soul. Demon, remember?” he snorted. “So you’re trying to tell me you don’t go around snooping for blackmail material?”</p>
<p>Raziel giggled. “Heavens, no! I admit only to an insatiable curiosity about everything, but not for any nefarious purpose.”</p>
<p>Crowley scrutinized her from behind his sunglasses. He didn’t like how she disarmed him. He didn’t like how comfortable he felt with her. “I don’t like that I trust you.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Adam greeted Aziraphale with a hug, and the rest of The Them soon joined in the reunion.</p>
<p>“My, you’re all so grown up. Congratulations to all of you!” Aziraphale said cheerfully. “Your parents must be so pleased and proud. All of you off to university!”</p>
<p>“LSE told Wensleydale that no one had ever returned the application form with corrections for next year’s directions,” Brian shared. Aziraphale laughed.</p>
<p>“He’s not joking,” explained Pepper, rolling her eyes. She added sarcastically, “Yay, chartered accountancy.”</p>
<p>“Hey, I’m going to have a reliable job for the rest of my life. Sociology at London Met can’t match that.” Wensleydale countered.</p>
<p>“How about you, Brian?” Aziraphale asked. He was surprised by how fondly he remembered them.</p>
<p>“Southampton. My parents are just happy I’m going to school close enough to my grandparents that I can help out. They live in Corhampton” explained Brian.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’ve heard lovely things about the South Downs. Need to visit someday. Adam, Anathema said you’re off to Oxford. That’s wonderful news.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, about that…,” Adam mumbled. “I’m thinking about taking a gap year. I was talking to Crowley and he said he has a lot of contacts in Silicon Valley. Interesting stuff.”</p>
<p>“What about your studies? I would have thought you were looking forward to university. So many topics to explore,” entreated Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“I am, but I can do that later. Crowley’s been all over the world and has such amazing stories. A little adventure sounds great. You must have travelled outside of England a lot, too. What are your favorite places?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Petronius’ restaurant circa the first century CE.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The crêperie in Paris where we ate after Crowley rescued me from the Bastille.</em>
</p>
<p><em>That crowded coffee house in Vienna with the amazing Sachertorte</em>.</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s left thigh tingled at the memory of sharing a small bench in that cafe. Why did every highlight of the past 6000 years have to involve Crowley? Never mind that. How dare he tempt Adam from such a well-respected institution of higher learning!</p>
<p>“Oh, here and there, I suppose. If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I suddenly remembered something I need to tell Crowley.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Aziraphale was irate. It was one thing for Crowley to be angry with him, but tempting Adam away from the pursuit of knowledge was an entirely different matter. He scanned the party and found Crowley had left the tent and returned to the garden. He marched toward the stone wall where Raziel was perched listening to Crowley with rapt attention. The wind had picked up, playing with the hem of her skirt. The brilliant sunset framed Crowley stunningly. His hair floated around him, extensions of the sun’s dimming rays. The warm red and golden hues caressed his cheeks, and for a moment Aziraphale forgot his anger as his traitorous heart fluttered against his rib cage, pleading to take flight. Crowley glanced briefly in his direction and then slowly, deliberately leaned in to whisper in her ear. The sobering stab of jealousy, much stronger than its earlier scratch at his heart, brought Aziraphale abruptly back into the present. It was immediately followed by embarrassment at the idea of being jealous of Raziel. Self-recrimination then restoked his original indignation over Adam. By the time he reached the wall, his emotional journey had come full circle back to ire. “Crowley, a word?”</p>
<p>“Just one, angel? Looks like you’ve got quite a few ready to burst out.” He turned to Raziel and gently slipped his hands around her waist and lifted her down. He removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders. “You’ll get used to the wind. Why don’t you get a cup of coffee to warm up?”</p>
<p>Raziel grinned and then turned to Aziraphale. Her smile dissolved and her brow furrowed as she felt the anger rolling off him. She hesitated briefly before moving quickly toward the tent.</p>
<p>“Let’s hear it, angel. What’s got your knickers in a twist?”</p>
<p>“How dare you <em>tempt</em> Adam away from university!”</p>
<p>“Tempt?” exclaimed Crowley. “Tempt! You think I’m trying to corrupt our godson? Or our should-have-been-godson? Or whatever. The point is you immediately assume I have corrupt intentions. Of course, you do.”</p>
<p>Crowley sneered and shrugged, but Aziraphale could see through his attempts to hide his hurt at the accusation. His confidence in the rightness of his argument began to falter, but he pushed on. “The lad’s always been curious, and he adores Tadfield. Going to Oxford would let him study whatever he wants and stay with the person, uh…” Aziraphale nervously worried at his ring and looked away. “I mean the place, <em>the place </em>he loves.”</p>
<p>“I offered him the chance to see more of the world. To be confident he’s committing to the right place for him. I’d hate for the kid to invest all that time into something that isn’t going to work out. Too easy to get hurt if you think there’s only one option. What if it disappoints?” The heat had left Crowley’s voice. Instead, it was cold and hard.</p>
<p>Aziraphale stared at him. Crowley’s words had routed his anger, leaving him in a jumble of jealousy, regret, embarrassment, and hurt. Less than two hours earlier, he had been chiding himself for missing all the signs Crowley could love. How had he ended up accusing him of malicious intent toward a <em>child</em>? How had he made such a mess of things? <em>Again</em>. He couldn’t expect Crowley to forgive him for any of it, this insult or the past seven years. But if he didn’t <em>do something</em>, Crowley might never speak to him again. Crowley’s face betrayed no emotion, offered no hint of a safe harbor for confession or apology. Crowley once thought Aziraphale was brave - brave enough that he made sure to exude it when masquerading as the angel post-Apocanope. He hoped Crowley had been right. Aziraphale squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. </p>
<p>He had waited too long. A woman’s scream was followed by a shriek from Sophia Rose. Crowley was half-way to the child before Aziraphale even determined the location of the commotion. He quickly followed Crowley’s path.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>[1] http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/1642439.stm</p>
<p>I've written 11 of the 12 chapters, and this one has my absolute favorite lines. Gold star to anyone who can guess where they are. I'll include the answer in the notes for Chapter 8</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>From behind a stand of trees, Hastur was observing the humans and their supernatural guests. He jumped when he heard If I Only Had a Brain playing in his coat pocket. He flipped open the phone and growled, “You told me you would make it stop playing that.”</p><p>“Oh. Must have slipped my mind during our last meeting,” replied Sandalphon in a sickly-sweet tone.</p><p>Wherein the reader learns of the treachery afoot</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Part Two: Chapter Eight<br/>So concludes Part Two</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    <em>
      <span>10 minutes earlier</span>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>Had Aziraphale been less enraged, he might have noted the scent of sulfur on the breeze when he marched toward Crowley and Raziel at the stone wall. From behind a stand of trees, Hastur was observing the humans and their supernatural guests. He jumped when he heard </span><em>If I Only Had a Brain</em> playing in his coat pocket. He flipped open the phone and growled, “You told me you would make it stop playing that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Oh. Must have slipped my mind during our last meeting,” replied Sandalphon in a sickly-sweet tone. “So, what’s going on down there?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Both idiots are here. And another angel. Haven’t seen her before.” Hastur peered around the tree, watching Aziraphale approaching Crowley.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“That’s Raziel. She’s also a bit of a problem. Gave the humans a book she shouldn’t have. I have no idea why the Almighty was okay with it, but she’s a problem for another day. Are they plotting anything?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“No. They look mad at each other. Barely spoken to each other. Crowley’s been with that Raziel a lot. Ummmm. The idiots are arguing now.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Interesting. Maybe it won’t take too much to keep them from colluding again. Anything else?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Yeah. Crowley has hellfire with him. Not a lot, but I can smell it.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Interesting. He’s just carrying it around?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Hastur sniffed at the air. “I think it’s in his jacket. Raziel is wearing it and I can smell it moving with her.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Hmmmm,” Sandalphon considered the possibilities and then added excitedly, “Could you tempt her into touching it?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Tempt her? Of course, I can tempt her, you idiot. It’s not racquet science,” he grumbled.  He closed the phone and directed his powers of suggestion at her. He laughed when he connected with her deep-rooted natural curiosity. Easy as A, B, 3, he chuckled.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>***</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>Guests had already crowded into a huddle when Aziraphale caught up. Pushing his way through, he first saw Sophia Rose sobbing in Anathema’s arms. Anathema met his eyes and she shook her head, mouthing </span><em>she’s fine</em>. Aziraphale then saw Crowley on the ground with Raziel’s head in his lap. Her eyes were closed and he was lightly patting her cheeks. As he moved closer, he could hear Crowley’s frantic whispering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Come on, Raziel. Wake up. I’ll fix it, I promise. Look at me,” pleaded the distraught demon. </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Razzy fell,” wailed the child as Anathema rocked her gently.</span>
  </span>
</p><p><span>Crowley looked toward Anathema for reassurance that Sophia was unharmed. Seeing the agony in Crowley’s expression, Aziraphale grew increasingly frightened of what had happened. </span>He stooped by Crowley, and gently pushed up his sunglasses from where they had slipped precariously down his nose, revealing their fully yellow reptilian nature to anyone not focused on the injured party. He reached for Raziel’s limp hand.<b></b></p><p>
  <span>“Stop!” Crowley shouted in panic. Aziraphale paused and examined Raziel’s hand at a distance; he watched as ugly blisters continued to rise and split, exposing ugly raw flesh. Aziraphale gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Hellfire!” he spat out. “Crowley,…”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Crowley interrupted him sharply, “Not now, angel. Need to get rid of these people.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Aziraphale swallowed down his anger, cleared his voice, and announced, “It’s alright, everyone. Just need to rebalance her humours. My friend Avicenna always advised…”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Shut up, angel!” Crowley growled quietly. He then addressed the concerned guests, “Food allergy. Bumped her head when she fell. We already used her EpiPen. Just give us some space, yeah?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>The crowd began to disperse as Adam's mother came rushing up. With Sophia Rose still in her arms, Anathema intercepted Mrs. Young to reassure her no additional help was needed. As she looked anxiously past Anathema, Aziraphale subtly snapped his fingers and she visibly relaxed. Newt had followed her, and Anathema passed the exhausted child to him. She sat down on the ground next to Crowley.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Thanks for the crowd control, book girl.” Crowley picked up Raziel’s hand and whispered in Enochian as he extracted the hellfire. Sparks of flame rose from her hand and coalesced into a small fireball. With one hand controlling the flame and the other gathering an ancient metal box and lid from the ground near Raziel’s hand, Crowley directed the miniature inferno into the box and shut the lid.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>An ethereal chime drew Aziraphale’s attention away. Raziel had given her HARP to Aziraphale for the party. For all humanity’s inventiveness, why only half of their clothes had pockets was a mystery to Aziraphale. He looked at the screen and cursed upon seeing Sandalphon’s name.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Hello, Sandalphon.” Aziraphale fought valiantly to keep his voice even.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Oh, Aziraphale! Where’s Raziel? We received an alert that she had an occult injury through the new field agent monitoring system. Is everything, okay?” </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Aziraphale apprehensively noted the eagerness in Sandalphon’s voice. Something was very wrong, but he wasn't sure what. “Ah. Well, yes. Small incident. She found a tiny bit of Hellfire. Probably leftover from the Apocalypse. She wanted to contain it before it hurt anyone and burned herself. Very small. I need to get her back up right away though.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Aziraphale,” Sandalphon explained with poorly disguised glee. “She’ll need to be in quarantine on Earth until further notice. Please make the arrangements and then return to file a report.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“That hardly seems necessary. She’s not contagious.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“How would you know? You’re immune. No, she must stay and you must return as soon as possible. And no contact with her until quarantine is done. We would have no way to know if you got any on you during a visit. It’ll be a nightmare getting you decontaminated as it is. Mind you don’t dawdle, Aziraphale.” Then the line went dead.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Aziraphale didn’t know where to direct his anger, so he pushed it aside as Raziel finally began to stir. She opened her mouth but was too weak to speak. She swallowed hard and Aziraphale watched a tear slide down her cheek. Several others followed. All the while Crowley whispered softly to her.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“They won’t let me take her back upstairs,” explained Aziraphale, his embarrassment flush across his cheeks.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Glad you were so successful in your campaign for kindness,” muttered Crowley. Aziraphale cringed.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“She can stay at Jasmine Cottage. I know some spells that might help. We can clear out Sophia’s room.” Anathema was playing mental Tetris with the furniture when she heard Crowley snap.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“That won’t be necessary. Put her in the sunroom.” He added guiltily, “Sorry about the rose bushes.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Very good. Newt, please thank the Youngs for their hospitality. We should get a wiggle on,” Aziraphale announced. He scooped up Raziel easily and exited the garden. Crowley gathered his jacket and the box. Anathema fell in line behind him.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Moments later, they were walking past the gate at Jasmine Cottage. Anathema ran ahead to open the door, and Aziraphale carried Raziel in. Crowley paused near the threshold and looked up at the horseshoe.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Come round back like usual, Crowley?” Anathema directed, but he shook his head.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Maybe I should wait out here a bit.” Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and backed away from the door. He watched Anathema shrug and close the door behind her. He circled around the cottage and stared through the windows as Aziraphale carried Raziel through the home.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Aziraphale quickly found the newly created sunroom and placed Raziel on the plush overstuffed couch in the center. He was kneeling by her, looking with horror at the open wounds on her hand and wrist, when Anathema entered. Raziel lay quietly, either unconscious again or deeply asleep.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Newt will put Sophia to bed. How can I help, Aziraphale?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Do you have a cauldron or amphora we could use for Holy Water?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Under different circumstances, she would have laughed. Aziraphale’s anachronisms always got worse when he was flustered. Instead she simply offered, “I’ll fetch my stock pot.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Fill it with water and I’ll bless it. Not as strong as the good stuff, but we’ll have to make do. And fetch some towels?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>When Anathema returned, she watched Aziraphale hold his hands over the pot as he recited an Enochian incantation. A dazzling ray of light illuminated the water briefly and then disappeared. Aziraphale dipped a towel in the pot and dabbed at Raziel’s wrist. Anathema startled at the hiss and rising vapors; she thought of her own mother dabbing skinned knees with peroxide. Aziraphale began to wring out the towel and winced.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Are you alright?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“It’s nothing. Speck of hellfire. The Holy Water neutralized it.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Can a speck of hellfire hurt a witch?” She asked pointedly. “I’m taking your silence as a no. Move over.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Aziraphale hovered over Anathema as she repeatedly dabbed at the wounds until the Holy Water produced no further sizzle. She looked up at Aziraphale expectantly.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“That’s the best we can do for now, just needs a bandage. I can’t believe they want her quarantined. Ridiculous. She should be home. This never should have happened. I don’t understand why he even had it. How could I let this happen to her? She would never hurt a soul. She was so excited for this trip, and now,” Aziraphale’s voice cracked as he trailed off. He closed his eyes and turned his face upward with a prayerful expression.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Crowley had slithered into the cottage unobserved. Aziraphale’s obvious love for Raziel burned him from the inside out. He almost fled rather than risk seeing further evidence of their attachment, but he didn’t believe himself that cowardly. He deserved whatever was coming.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>When Aziraphale turned back to Anathema, she replied “She can stay here as long as they’re enforcing a quarantine. We’ll take care of her. I’ll have Newton periodically siphon some holy water from the church down the road. He really is clever when he doesn’t have to touch any tech.” She laughed softly.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Uh-hem. ‘Salright if I come in?” The surprised pair looked up to find Crowley leaning against the doorframe, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Sure, she’s asleep. Let me get this safely away.” Anathema picked up the pot and carried it out, giving Crowley a wide berth.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“How is she?” Crowley asked, walking around the couch to see her better. He was reaching out to take her wounded hand in his when Aziraphale grabbed it protectively.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Holy water,” Aziraphale mumbled in explanation.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span><span>Crowley stood still, memorizing the warmth of Aziraphale’s hand on him. </span><em>This. This will have to be enough</em>. He tried not to wince as Aziraphale withdrew his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Aziraphale saw the subtle flinch and felt like he was drowning. How could he have thought Crowley might forgive him. None of this would have happened if he had trusted Crowley. Raziel wouldn’t have walked off with a ticking bomb. Crowley’s profound misery made his remorse obvious. Crowley had always protected the few things he cared about; this failure clearly devastated him. Aziraphale’s anger at him evaporated. His own jealousy was equally responsible for the condition of his innocent friend.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“I’m sorry, angel. I don’t know how she found it. It was hidden. Only a demon should have been able to detect it.” Crowley choked out. “You have to believe me.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“I know you didn’t intend this, Crowley.” Aziraphale whispered back. He thought wistfully about how at one time Crowley would have reshaped the universe to protect him. He had squandered that love. Crowley and Raziel would take better care of each other, he thought shamefully. He forced out the words, “She knows that, too, I’m sure.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Crowley didn’t think he could endure any more. He knew it was true; Raziel would forgive him. No wonder Aziraphale loved her.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Anathema returned to the sunroom to find Raziel covered with a warm tartan blanket. Flanking the sofa, two newly materialized side tables each supported a vase of purple hyacinth. Aziraphale and Crowley were gazing at Raziel intently. As Anathema set down a sippy cup of holy water by the flowers, Raziel's eyes fluttered open. Her glance darted back and forth between the angel and the demon. With obvious concentration, she murmured, “Love. Lo…”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>She closed her eyes again. Aziraphale and Crowley gazed at her in equal misery and then stared at each other.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Angel,…” Crowley began ever so softly.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>At the same moment, Aziraphale gently offered, “Crowley,…”</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>They both fell silent. Anathema walked around the sofa and brushed Raziel’s golden curls from her forehead and placed a compress smelling of sage and lavender.</span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>“Old family recipe, very old. I think what she need most now is some quiet. I’ll be with her. I’ll let you know if she gets worse.” Anathema paused, looking like she wanted to add something but then reconsidered. She sat down in the chair next to Raziel. Aziraphale nodded, his eyes shimmering with profound sadness. He snapped and vanished. </span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <span>Crowley didn’t think he could survive any undeserved kindness from Anathema. He managed a thank you to her and then headed off to the Bentley</span>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As promised in my notes for Chapter 7, my favorite line is: “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”</p><p>Thank you @princip1914 for the assist on archaic medical references!<br/>Thank you @Liquid_Lyrium for beta'ing!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>From the couch, Raziel saw the mountain of boxes moving toward her before she could see Crowley carrying them. She laughed. “I wouldn’t have expected a demon to celebrate Christmas. Stopping by for something spooky like All Hallows’ Eve? Yes. The birth of Christ? Not so much.”</p>
<p>“Phht. These are gifts. Commercialization of Christmas. Perfectly demonic. ‘Sides, it’s not even His actual birthday,” he replied, depositing his load next to the Christmas tree in the sunroom. </p>
<p>Wherein Crowley periodically visits Raziel</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Interlude: Chapter Nine</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Mid-September</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anathema heard the back door of Jasmine Cottage unlatch and she rose from the armchair in the sunroom. She was unsurprised to find Crowley clad in all black, carrying a phalaenopsis orchid with several breathtaking white blooms contrasting starkly with their deliverer. She raised a finger to her lips and whispered a greeting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is she?” Crowley asked meekly as he set the plant down on a table. Anathema had seen a wide range of moods and emotions in Crowley since the world didn’t end. He didn’t do meek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s talking a little. Mostly she sleeps, but not so deeply. She’s alert for at least part of the day. She likes your flowers.” Anathema smiled at Crowley, trying to coax his swagger out. She knew from the months after Aziraphale’s return to heaven, Crowley in pain could be a danger to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve said nothing about my visits,” he stated more than asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were exceedingly clear about that, Crowley.” Anathema frowned as she accepted this visit would not be the one where he’d confront what happened at the party.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sophia will be up from her nap in a bit. She’d love to see you,” Anathema offered shrewdly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah. Stuff to do. Here, for the little demon when she wakes.” He snapped his fingers and handed Anathema a plastic bottle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She warily considered the container of bubbles. “You promise they’ll pop after a few minutes this time? Mr. Taylor gave us quite the earful for the pile of ‘gaudy plastic balls’ in the garden. Thought we were planning a rave. I was just about ready to bury them in the garden when they finally popped after a week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pop? Of course, they’ll pop. One or two hours,” he replied grinning. “Three, three hours tops.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anathema rolled her eyes but was glad to see the spark of mischief. Alas, in a blink the glimmer had receded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gotta run. You know how to reach me” he said and quickly headed to the back door before she could argue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>31 October</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“War! War, war, war!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley pondered Sophia Rose’s bellicose mood as he walked up the path to the back door of Jasmine Cottage.  As he reached for the doorknob, the door flew open and Sophia Rose slammed into his knees. He looked down to find a child-sized lion hugging his legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“War!!!” she mock growled with a grin. Ah, roar. Crowley laughed at his mistake. Silly American holiday.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a wee fierce beastie, Sophia.” Crowley examined her costume and eyed the plush lion by her side. “We can do better than that, can’t we, kid?” Her eyes were alight in anticipation of whatever magic trick Crowley would conjure this time. He snapped, and the plush toy became a tawny housecat with remarkably lioness-like features.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Crowley!” Anathema stared at the furry newcomer. “You can’t just give her a pet cat. Newt’s allergic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” he mumbled and snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s still here, Crowley,” she reminded him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but now she’s hypoaller-whatever,” Crowley replied with a wave of his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anathema looked up from the cat and was nearly blinded by the anxiety in his aura despite his well-practiced insouciance. Today was the day. “She’s awake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley followed Anathema to the sunroom. The abundance of lush green plants and flowering orchids had made it a proper conservatory. Crowley quietly snarled at a croton whose leaves immediately perked up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Raziel, you have a visitor,” Anathema announced and gestured to the demon hanging back at the entrance. Crowley gave a small wave and tasted the air, trying to gauge his reception before committing to walking all the way into the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you, Crowley,” Raziel said carefully. Speaking still required concentration, but her smile came easily. She nodded toward the armchair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll be in the kitchen carving pumpkins if you need me.” Anathema swept out of the room leaving a vast silence in her wake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley slinked toward Raziel’s couch and awkwardly flung his limbs into the designated seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t, that is, I never,” Crowley began unsuccessfully. He tried again. “I need you to know that I never meant for anyone to get hurt. It was just for insurance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Puzzled, Raziel tilted her head. “Insurance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I didn’t trust your lot to leave us alone. Thought we might need a head start if Gabriel decided to have another go at executing us.” Crowley looked unbearably uncomfortable, like a cat unable to decide if shrinking into its carrier or bolting through the veterinary office were the better course of action.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So that’s why it was such a small amount. Insurance,” she repeated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t understand how you even found it,” Crowley wondered aloud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raziel blushed. “I’m sorry. I should never have done it. I was sipping the coffee Mr. Young had poured for me, and then I was overcome by an irresistible urge to push my hand into the pocket.  I brushed against two boxes; one felt like love and the other was a mystery, calling to me. I’m so sorry, Crowley. It was a complete violation of your privacy. I don’t understand what I was feeling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley straightened up and leaned toward her. He probed, “Would you say you were... tempted?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Oh, no. Oh, I don’t know. How would I know if I were being tempted?” she asked, intrigued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you smell any sulfur? Touch of brimstone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raziel closed her eyes and tried to remember the moments just before the burning. “Maybe? It’s all a bit blurry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t like it,” he grumbled. He moved to rest his elbow on the side table and bumped into a mug of hot chocolate. He startled at the familiar ceramic white wings. “Umm. ‘Salright with you if we don’t mention this visit to Aziraphale? Don’t want to insert myself where I don’t belong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Crowley, he wouldn’t think that.” Raziel felt like she had missed something important.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He would. Our little secret?” Crowley stood but continued to stare at her, awaiting an answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raziel said with a sad smile, “Of course, Crowley.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>23 December</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the couch, Raziel saw the mountain of boxes moving toward her before she could see Crowley carrying them. She laughed. “I wouldn’t have expected a demon to celebrate Christmas. Stopping by for something spooky like All Hallows’ Eve? Yes. The birth of Christ? Not so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Phht. These are gifts. Commercialization of Christmas. Perfectly demonic. ‘Sides, it’s not even His actual birthday,” he replied, depositing his load next to the Christmas tree in the sunroom. “Book girl says you’ve been reading. Boring stuff, books. Here’s something better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley tossed her a box wrapped in devilishly red paper. She shook it tentatively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go ahead, open it. Might need some help with it and can’t have Newt touching it,” he encouraged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raziel considered the present. Surely, Heaven had rules about accepting gifts from an agent of Hell, but Crowley was a freelancer. Besides, no one upstairs needed to know. She carefully slipped her finger under a taped edge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no. Rip it! Have some fun with it!” Crowley encouraged. Although her continued frailty worried him, Crowley welcomed the colour in her cheeks. Raziel didn’t need to be told twice; she made quick work of the shiny paper and blood red ribbon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?” She stared at the box with a photo of a thin rectangle on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome to the 21st century, Raziel,” Crowley laughed, settling into the armchair next to her. He opened the box and handed her a top of the line tablet. “It’s preloaded with movies, TV shows, all sorts of clever human things. It’s got perpetual WiFi. Just make sure Newt doesn’t touch it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raziel followed Crowley’s directions on hand gestures and found her way to the video section. “What’s a golden girl?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Golden Girls. You’ll love it.” Crowley grinned. He spent the next hour introducing her to web browsers, social media, and old school games like Candy Crush (one of his favourite wiles). Between Raziel’s fascination with humans and her natural curiosity, she was enthralled, but after a while Crowley could see her enthusiasm was masking her exhaustion. He was loath to slow her recovery. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s enough of the information superhighway for today. You should rest.” Wishing to avoid a thank you, he hastily stood and added, “See you next time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Early January</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a beautiful clear day made brighter by the sun’s reflection off the snow. Raziel had been staring at the tablet and laughing before abruptly stopping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anathema, did you say that Crowley suggested Sophia Rose’s name?” Raziel asked cautiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. I rather liked the idea of wisdom, and, of course, Crowley would suggest a flower. Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it might have been from this Golden Girls show.” Raziel held up the tablet and clicked play.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment later Anathema was pinching the bridge of her nose. “Are you telling me we named our child after a sitcom?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mid-March</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those wankers shouldn’t be assigning you duties. You can barely walk.” Crowley guided Raziel through the garden gate as they returned from a turn round the village green.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Crowley, but I really have gotten much stronger the past few months.” Raziel refused his arm to emphasize the point. “Besides, I’m looking forward to working with the Field Angels again. I missed out on their initial missions and I want to hear their stories.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you can work, you should be able to go upstairs when you want. A year’s quarantine is ridiculous,” Crowley grumbled again but with less bite. He watched as she slowly but independently navigated the steppingstones to the back door. She stopped there, allowing Crowley to open it, an act he knew full well for his benefit rather than hers. He continued as they returned to the warmth of the cottage, “Do you have everything you need in London? I trust Aziraphale will make sure you’re comfortable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watched Crowley carefully as she replied, “Oh, yes. He’s still doing almost all of my work, but he said he’ll make sure someone checks in on me regularly. Sandalphon said he’s too important to risk me contaminating him. He’s fit to be tied that they won’t let him come down to the bookshop himself.” Six months ago she wouldn’t have noticed the way his body tensed at the word bookshop. Crowley had unintentionally revealed a great deal of himself during his visits to Jasmine Cottage. He looked away as she continued to stare. She suddenly realized, “I’m not going to see you again, am I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be Heaven Central with all those Field Angels. You wouldn’t want a demon lurking ‘bout,” he replied, still avoiding her gaze. He shoved his hands into his pockets and started to pace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t like the bookshop?” she speculated. She watched him slow almost imperceptibly and then resume his march. Treading carefully, she pressed further, “Have you spoken to Aziraphale lately?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time Crowley did stop. “Nah, nothing to say. Nearly cost him his best friend.” He knew if he turned, she’d see right through every lie, every charade, including the ones he told himself. The vulnerability felt too painful; resentment rushed in to cover it.  She had no right. “You don’t get to judge. Ineffable Plan and all that. We stopped the end of the world like She wanted evidently. Not much reason for an angel and a demon to work together beyond that. He’s happier with your lot, with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Crowley, I think you’re very much mistaken. If you would just look at me,” she pleaded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t patronize me, Raziel. Your attachment is strong and reciprocated. You shouldn’t risk contaminating it with the Fallen” he snarled as a shard of pain pushed through his defenses. The raw drag of it distracted him enough he forgot himself and looked at her. Her pained expression chastened him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I should be off. Board meeting to get to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raziel realized she didn’t fully understand anything he’d said since they returned to the cottage. She also realized he wouldn’t let her in enough to help.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley started toward the back door but then turned and stood as straight as his snake spine permitted. “I wish you every happiness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he was gone. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>After the angst of the previous chapter, I thought everyone deserved a little comic relief. It is the Good Omens RomCom event, after all.</p>
<p>Now only three chapters left for our boys to get their feelings sorted!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Well, Archangel of Secrets and all. Turns out I was a natural when it comes to hacking. They needed some emergency pen testing and Crowley gave Warlock my name. And since they’re still in California, I’m helping set up the party.” Raziel snapped to send the invitation up</p><p>“Pen testing? Wait, Warlock?” A moment later Aziraphale was reading the puzzling invitation.</p><p>Wherein Aziraphale receives an invitation he can't refuse</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Part Three: Chapter Ten</p><p>I expect I will miss my normal Thursday update. While I have Chapter 11 written, I am still working on Chapter 12 which means I'm still making occasional edits to Chapter 11 for continuity. The final two chapters will be up next week.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sitting in his office, Aziraphale stared at his HARP. Raziel was due to call shortly. They were just a couple weeks away from the end of her year-long quarantine. Without her, he had been left literally friendless in Heaven. The Field Angels adored him, but they had elevated him to a level where a friendship of equals was impossible. For the most part, the archangels still regarded him with some residual suspicion. That Nelchael chap was pleasant enough. Bookish even by Aziraphale’s standards, but he had agreed to visit with Raziel frequently when Aziraphale had been expressly forbidden from doing so. For that, Aziraphale would always be grateful. </p><p>Sandalphon had been an ever-present headache immediately following Adam’s party, always eager to use Aziraphale’s popularity with the Host to guild his inferior reputation. After a few months though, the archangel seemed preoccupied with other affairs. While Aziraphale didn’t miss the sycophant’s fawning, he wondered what occupied Sandalphon’s attention so fully. In fact, Sandalphon had gone so far as to give Aziraphale numerous projects that required close work with Gabriel - rather suspicious behavior since Sandalphon seldom passed on a chance to ingratiate himself with Gabriel. Fortunately for Aziraphale, Gabriel’s indignation over his continued existence had steadily eroded. In fact, the principality emeritus found himself increasingly welcomed by Gabriel. Puzzling, indeed. If the past year had taught Aziraphale anything, it was that he had neither the mind nor the patience for office politics. Much as he wanted the Field Angel program to reflect Her love and will, he was quite ready for someone else to be in charge of ensuring that. He had had his fill of Heaven for at least a century.</p><p>But where to go once Raziel could resume her duties? The edict forbidding him from visiting her meant he hadn’t set foot in his bookshop since she relocated there from Jasmine Cottage. Even in the first six months, he’d been so busy he hadn't been down Earth then either. Facing the reality of returning to London, he realized staying in the bookshop would expose the heartbreak he had papered over with Field Angel Training materials and administrative tasks. He just needed some time. He had spent the vast majority of his years on Earth alone. He could spend the rest that way as well. He simply needed to get used to it. John Rutter’s arrangement of <em>All Things Bright and Beautiful</em> returned his focus to his HARP. </p><p>“Raziel, my dear! How are you feeling?” Aziraphale greeted. After the obligatory agenda of Field Angel activities, they relaxed into casual conversation.</p><p>“I have an invitation for you,” Raziel said. “It’s for JEB’s launch party at Tadfield Manor.”</p><p>“I have no idea what that means, Raziel.” Aziraphale pondered. “Why would this Jeb person have a boat at Tadfield Manor?”</p><p>“Not that kind of launch, silly goose.” She laughed affectionately. “Adam’s little gap year project turned into an actual product, JEB. His startup is going to release it at the launch party. The buzz around it is tremendous.”</p><p>“Hmph,” responded Aziraphale. <em>How had she become so fluent in human culture in such a short time</em>, he wondered. “How do you know all this?”</p><p>“Well for one thing, it’s all over Racer and Nowzit. Even the old folks are talking about it on Instagram,” Raziel explained. </p><p>“What on earth are those? I’ve spent millennia there and I haven’t learned any of those computer programs”</p><p>“Apps, Aziraphale! They’re social media apps. You know how curious I am. Once Crowley got me set up with a tablet and WiFi, I was a lost cause. This is actually the hottest ticket in England. It’s in two weeks so I’ll just be finishing my quarantine. Please say you’ll come. It will be fun, I promise. I haven’t seen you in forever.”</p><p>Ah. Aziraphale gulped. All year, he had restricted the topics for his check-ins with Raziel to a limited list of topics: her recovery, the Field Angel training program, and her quarantine review. He had avoided asking about Crowley because he was certain of the answer. Of course, Crowley was visiting her, no doubt secretly attending to her every need. Or maybe not in secret. Crowley always did take care of the things he loves. And of course, she’d find him attractive and be spending time with him. He’s clever and funny and adventurous and kind when he thinks no one is looking. That gorgeous red hair, and, Lord, those pants. Aziraphale suddenly realized he hadn’t said anything for an uncomfortably long time. He was the reason she had been quarantined for a year. How could he say no to her request?</p><p>“Of course, my dear. Miracle the invitation up for me? You said we’re both invited. Have you seen Adam since the party?”</p><p>“Well, Archangel of Secrets and all. Turns out I was a natural when it comes to hacking. They needed some emergency pen testing and Crowley gave Warlock my name. And since they’re still in California, I’m helping set up the party.” She snapped to send the invitation up</p><p>“Pen testing? Wait, Warlock?” A moment later he was reading the puzzling invitation.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>At the end of the day, who do you want by your side?</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Adam Young and Warlock Dowling</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Invite you to the launch of JEB</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tadfield Manor</em>
</p><p>
  <em>13 August - Reception for those staying at the the Manor</em>
</p><p>
  <em>14 August - Launch Event and Party</em>
</p><p>“It’s short for penetration testing, white hat hacking. Oh, Aziraphale, I don’t know how you resisted immersing yourself in all of these amazing human inventions! Warlock is in charge of cybersecurity for JEB so he reached out after Crowley gave him my name.”</p><p>“What? But how did Adam and Warlock even meet? Did Crowley introduce them?”</p><p>“Not directly. Crowley introduced Adam to some Silicon Valley people and Warlock was running in the same circles. They were shocked to find they not only had the same birthday but were both born in Tadfield. I think that’s how they chose Tadfield Manor for their launch party.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s head was swimming. He didn’t even know what question to ask next. <em>No, that’s untrue</em>, he chided himself.<em> I know exactly what question I need to ask</em>.</p><p>“Do you think…?  That is, will, uh, Cr-” Aziraphale stuttered as he heard the background noise on Raziel’s side fade out for a moment.</p><p>“Aziraphale, I have to go. Warlock is calling. The pre-party is formal dress and the launch event is innovation chic. I’ll see you soon!” She hung up.</p><p>Aziraphale put down his HARP and massaged his temples. He stared at the invitation, hoping it might provide some clue about JEB, or Adam and Warlock, or Raziel. Or Crowley. He summoned the travel notification form with a wave of his hand and filled out the details. Best to submit it before he lost his nerve and disappointed Raziel. With the completed form in hand and some additional paperwork to file, he took a meandering route to Gabriel’s office.</p><p>“Hello, Gabriel. I just wanted to..” began Aziraphale.</p><p>“Aziraphale!” interrupted Gabriel. “I was just thinking about you. We need to discuss your future.”</p><p>“My future?”</p><p>“Yes, your heavenly future. With Raziel returning soon, you will be free to assume more important duties. I admit I was no fan of your return, but it takes a really big archangel to admit his mistake. You belong here. I’ve been speaking with Michael. We see an important role for you in heaven. You can expect exciting news soon. What do you think?”</p><p>Aziraphale blinked several times while trying to interpret Gabriel’s words. “I’m afraid I hardly know what to think.” </p><p>“Smile, Aziraphale. Your good work is being recognized. All good things! Now what were you saying before?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m going down to Earth in a couple weeks. Just dropping off the notification form,” Aziraphale replied, pointing at the papers in his other hand.</p><p>Gabriel took the form from him and began skimming it. “You haven’t gone down in a while. What’s got your attention?”</p><p>“Oh, a little party for Adam.” Aziraphale moved toward the door, hoping for a quick exit.</p><p>“Are you sure, Aziraphale? The last one didn’t turn out so well.” Gabriel spied the invitation in Aziraphale’s stack of papers and retrieved it quickly. “The antichrist is throwing this party with the not-antichrist? In Tadfield? Well, that’s certainly noteworthy. Are you expecting trouble? Maybe I should accompany you. Renegade elements could be plotting something.”</p><p>“Oh, I hardly think it’s anything so dramatic. Wait, renegade...”</p><p>“No, no. Better safe than sorry. Can’t have you taking all the risks for Heaven. You might need backup.” Gabriel’s enthusiasm swelled. “A party - I should pick up my new suit.”</p><p>Aziraphale looked down at his loose centuries-old uniform. “Maybe I should update my wardrobe as well.”</p><p>“Whyever for, Aziraphale? No one will be looking <em>at you</em>. Sandalphon, come in. Look at this invitation.”</p><p>As Sandaphon reached out for it, Aziraphale suddenly found the idea of Falling rather appealing.</p><p>“Well, that’s interesting, indeed. Maybe I should join you, Aziraphale. Very suspicious that those two are teaming up.” Sandalphon rubbed his hands together and smiled sinisterly.</p><p>“My thoughts exactly, Sandalphon,” Gabriel concurred.</p><p>“Aren’t they going to notice extra guests?” challenged Aziraphale, desperate to curtail the party’s escalating size.</p><p>“A little judicious use of miracles and we’ll be all set,” Gabriel said dismissively. “Looks like you’re invited to the pre-party. How about you go investigate in the afternoon and then we’ll join you in the evening?”</p><p>“Good job, Aziraphale. Thank you for keeping an eye out for suspicious activities,” Sandalphon added as he ushered Aziraphale out and shut the door. </p><p>Aziraphale stood outside the door completely bewildered. What had just happened? How did he end up with two archangels joining him? If he had ever taken up sleeping, he would have surmised he was in a Lewis Carrol-inspired nightmare, but he didn't sleep and his first edition <em>Through the Looking-Glass</em> was safely stored in his bookshop. He continued to gape at the closed door, trying to process the past few minutes, when he heard the conversation continue.</p><p>“I imagine Crowley might be there as well, given his connections. You should invite Beelzebub, Gabriel. Good opportunity for you both to observe Aziraphale and the demon, learn more about their immunity. And more time together may get you two closer to being immune as well.” Sandalphon paused and added teasingly, “Not that you aren’t working hard on that already, eh? You’ve seen them three time this month already.”</p><p>Aziraphale clapped a hand over his mouth in shock. That Gabriel and Beelzebub had kept an open line of communication post-Apocanope was common knowledge, but the level of familiarity Sandalphon was implying would shock the Host. How did Sandalphon square his obsession with rules and regulations with an archangel and a duke of Hell fraternizing?</p><p>“Well, ummm…” Gabriel sputtered. “we all need to do our part.”</p><p>Aziraphale could feel Gabriel’s blush through the door. Gabriel laughed nervously then continued, “And yes, a party with them does have some… appeal.”</p><p>Aziraphale was flabbergasted. After all those millennia of fearing Heaven would recall him if they ever discovered the Arrangement let alone his feelings, Aziraphale fumed at the obvious double standard. Now he was stuck with Sandalphon, Gabriel, and God help him, Beelzebub at this party. And all of them were more excited about it than he was. </p><p>“Fuck,” he said under his breath and then tiptoed down the hall before either archangel could find him eavesdropping.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley then placed his other arm against the marble, enclosing Aziraphale between himself and the statue.<br/>“Angel, I…” Crowley rasped. He leaned forward, his breath ghosting Aziraphale’s neck and leaving a ripple of goose flesh.<br/>“Yes?” Aziraphale closed his eyes and haltingly turned his head till their cheeks touched. The electrical charge left them both gasping.</p>
<p>Wherein one barrier is removed while another is constructed</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Part Three: Chapter Eleven</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“About 15 more minutes to the manor, sir.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.” </p>
<p>Aziraphale watched the scenery fly by as he replayed in reverse his memory of the post-Apocanope bus ride back to London. He gazed down at his hand, recalling Crowley’s cool touch as he pulled him gently onto the bus and into adjoining seats. If he could rewind time and return to that moment, what would he change, where would his timeline diverge based on what he now knew of the past eight years? He sighed. Returning to Heaven was still the right if costly choice. He would spare Raziel the pain of her injury, of course, but he couldn’t in good conscience change anything else. As they arrived at the entrance of Tadfield Manor, he pushed down his memories of the night they had spent unraveling Agnes Nutter’s prophecy, the last night they had spent together.</p>
<p>Aziraphale discretely overpaid the driver who wasn’t sure how he ended up with a fare so far out of the standard 12 miles. With his bag in hand, Aziraphale walked up the gravel path leading to the entrance. In a moment of deja vu, he paused and placed his free hand over his heart. Adam’s love still permeated every inch of Tadfield. He took a few more steps along the path and made his way under the arch before an even stronger memory seized him, Crowley blowing away the blue remnants of a paintball. Glancing back at his shoulder, he missed Raziel racing down the path to meet him until she was directly in front of him. Her smile faltered.</p>
<p>“Aziraphale, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you alright?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale turned quickly to face her. “What? Oh, tickety-boo. Just recalling something. Lovely to see you, my dear. So kind of you to meet me.” </p>
<p>“How was the trip? I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me drive back to London to fetch you.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense. You have so much to do setting up for this, uh, launch party. Didn't this used to be some sort of management training program?” He asked, affecting sufficient absentmindedness to provide enough plausible deniability for a lorry to drive through.</p>
<p>“Oh, they had a rather strange accident - real bullets instead of paint balls. They lost their license and reopened as an event venue.”</p>
<p>He offered his arm and they continued up the path to the lobby where they were soon met by the manor’s proprietor Mary Hodges, formerly Loquacious. She stared at Aziraphale, as if trying to place him in her memories. Her brow furrowed.</p>
<p>“Have we met before, sir? Maybe at the Rescue Society for Chihuahuas? They’re the best, you know.” </p>
<p>He shook his head. Despite his somber mood, a hint of a smile tugged at the side of his mouth. “I have one of those faces, I guess.” </p>
<p>“Please let me get you checked in. I see you are on the family and friends list. In your VIP swag bags you’ll find a tablet that is preloaded with an event app with all the details. You’ll also see the locked Jeb app. It will unlock when they start the launch party” Mary looked toward Raziel for confirmation she had covered all the requisite details, and, finding an enthusiastic nod, she continued. ”Here are the keys to your room. Would you like a porter?” </p>
<p>Seeing Aziraphale’s eyes glaze over, Raziel declined the offer, signed him into the guest book, accepted his keys, and guided him toward the lifts.</p>
<p>“Raziel, did that make sense in any of the 70 languages you speak?” asked Aziraphale. </p>
<p>She rolled her eyes. “For someone who saved this world, you sure don’t keep up with it! Makes you wonder how She inspired you to bother leaving your bookshop to save it. Ineffable, indeed!” Raziel laughed, “You’re on the second floor. I need to take care of a few things before the rest of the guests arrive. I’ll stop by your room at 7 for the reception? In the meantime, you can wander around the grounds or freshen up.”</p>
<p>“Thank you. I’ll see you then,” replied Aziraphale as he stepped into the lift. Once the doors closed he deflated, leaning against the wall and gently banging the back of his head against it. Sandalphon, Gabriel, and Beelzebub would likely arrive before the reception as well. What had he gotten himself into?</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Upon hearing the knock at his door, Aziraphale closed his first edition of <em> A Room with a View </em> and opened the door to find Raziel in a stunning creamy silk bias cut gown.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. Lots of last minute details to iron out,” she explained guiltily. “Well, to be honest, I couldn’t decide what to do with my hair.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Raziel! You look incandescent. Is this vintage?” Aziraphale observed admiringly. </p>
<p>“I borrowed Elizabeth Hawes’ Diamond Horseshoe [1] from the Met. Don’t tell anyone,” she stage-whispered and then smoothed the lapel of Aziraphale’s new white jacket. “And you look quite dashing. Like you’re ready for the Last Night of the Proms! I didn’t think you owned anything made since 1900!”</p>
<p>“Well, special occasion and all. Adam’s success. The end of your quarantine.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” she replied distractedly, her fingers twitching uncharacteristically. </p>
<p>Aziraphale then noted the tension in her posture. “Are you quite alright?”</p>
<p>“Well, you see, I invited someone special to the party. I do hope you’ll approve. You’re the one who brought us together, in fact,” explained Raziel, looking away.</p>
<p>Aziraphale blanched as he tried to reign in his emotions. A small section of his mind all but assumed her relationship with Crowley, but the rest was entrenched in denial. The awful reality struck with full force, the sudden revelation leaving no time for mitigation. Despite all of the obstacles and their consistently bad timing, Aziraphale discovered he had never fully given up hope for him and Crowley until that moment. Like a flame snuffed out, its extinction submerged Aziraphale in darkness. The thought of spending the weekend watching Crowley in love with someone else was unbearable.</p>
<p>“I know it’s not something archangels normally do, but I can’t help it. I do hope it’s not terribly wrong,” she continued.</p>
<p>“You’re an angel. I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.” The words escaped his mouth before he realized what he was saying. Oh, for a high wall to fling himself off.</p>
<p>“Oh, thank you. I would never have expected it, but Nelchael has been so kind. I’d never really spent time with him before, and the better I know him, the more I wanted to spend all of my time with him.”</p>
<p>“Nelchael?” choked Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“You know Nelchael. You recommended him to be my quarantine officer.”</p>
<p>“I...am a little acquainted with Nelchael. Yes.” Aziraphale’s heart soared back from the dark. If Raziel didn’t reciprocate Crowley’s affection, then perhaps all was not lost. “I confess, I am amazed. I thought...”</p>
<p>“That we’re too dissimilar? I suppose you’re right, but my convalescence tamed the exuberance he always found daunting. We spent a great deal of time together in your bookshop. He was fascinated by the wisdom in your books, and I by the humanity they reveal.”</p>
<p>“Why, of course! You fell in love over poetry!” Aziraphale exclaimed. <em> But poor Crowley. It would be terribly inappropriate to attempt a reconciliation if he still has feelings for Raziel. </em></p>
<p>Raziel blushed deeply. “Now that my quarantine is over, we have neither his required visits nor the bookshop as an excuse. I don’t know if he still wants to spend time with me, but I know exactly what I want. I’ve never felt like this before. It feels so fragile. So human.”</p>
<p>“Hold on to it with both hands, Raziel. Don’t let go for anything.” Aziraphale spoke with clarity and authority. Raziel stared into his steely blue eyes and saw freshly forged resolve. Then she saw the sparkle that had been absent these eight years since his return to heaven. His smile held a secret that intrigued her, but she had thoroughly learned the risk of ungoverned curiosity and the sound of guests arriving pulled her back to her duties.</p>
<p>“I promise I won’t. Now let’s go downstairs. You’re going to love the food. The chef has a Michelin star.” She took Aziraphale’s hand and pulled him toward the lifts.</p>
<p>***   </p>
<p>The courtyard bubbled with excited conversations and buoyant celebrations of the completed project to be revealed the next day. Servers drifted through the sea of bodies, their trays of canapés and wine bobbing among the guests in fancy dress.</p>
<p>As they stepped out from the portico, Aziraphale scanned the crowd in hopeful expectation, but he found only the heavenly contingent, a disappointment to him but a delight for his companion. Gabriel waved enthusiastically, gesturing for them to join their party. </p>
<p>“I’ll catch up with you in a bit.” Raziel squeezed Aziraphale’s arm, floated down the steps, and glided through the crowd, the ivory silk jersey of her dress swinging gracefully behind her. A moment later she called out giddily, “Nelchael! I’m so glad you came.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale watched as the shy archangel broke into a huge smile of relief upon seeing her. He then produced a gardenia corsage and awkwardly pinned it to her gown. Aziraphale hummed, content seeing that Raziel clearly had nothing to worry about. </p>
<p>As Gabriel gestured even more emphatically to him, Aziraphale realized any further delay might result in his pulling a muscle. Resigned to his immediate fate, he navigated the crowd to join them.</p>
<p>“Good evening, Gabriel,” greeted Aziraphale and then nodded to Sandalphon.</p>
<p>“Aziraphale! Good to see you!” thundered Gabriel. He then gestured broadly to the gathering, sloshing a Poco Grande glass. “You know, I think I’m starting to understand what you like about all this. When you move up to your new role, we’ll have to come down together for… what are these again?”</p>
<p>“Pińa coladas,” finished Sandalphon. </p>
<p>“Pińa coladas! Look at the little pumper-, bumper-, bumbershhhh-”</p>
<p>“Brolly?” Aziraphale offered.</p>
<p>“For Satan’z sake, it’s an umbrella,” grumbled Beelzebub as they joined the circle. Aziraphale stifled a grimace before remembering he should be surprised and belatedly put on a shocked face.</p>
<p>“Nothing to worry about, Aziraphale. Beez, here is just keeping an eye on the antichrist and the not-antichrist. Shared professional interests,” explained Gabriel neutrally, in obvious contrast to the besotted grin on his face. “Now, you’ll have to explain the foods. Probably okay for you to indulge as well since you lost the gut.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale sighed and looked away from his unfortunate companions for the evening. His breath caught as he spied Crowley sauntering up the path, no doubt having just parked the Bentley miraculously close to the entrance. His slim cut tuxedo jacket and improbably tight pants displayed each serpentine movement of his limbs, the taut fabric clothing his body only notionally. With flushed cheeks and racing heartbeats, Aziraphale teetered on the precipice of swooning outright. He caught the edge of a high-top table to steady himself. Sandalphon offered his hand in an exaggerated lurch that distracted the others as he searched Aziraphale’s previous line of sight.</p>
<p>“Goodness, I’m afraid the summer heat is a bit much for me. I’ll just get some water. Back in a jiff.” Aziraphale ducked behind a server proffering Roasted Fig Bruschetta and Cranberry and Brie Bites. He crossed quickly to the large statue in the center of the courtyard and paused to gather his courage. As Crowley approached, Aziraphale stepped out from behind the marble snake and human wrestling.</p>
<p>“Crowley, is that you?” he asked innocently. “You’ve come for the launch party?”</p>
<p>Crowley froze at the sound of the familiar voice. From behind his sunglasses, he drank in Aziraphale’s warm glow. Was that a new jacket? <em> Get a hold of yourself </em>, he checked himself mentally. He forced a well-practiced slouch and drawled “No, a lecture on Bentley maintenance. Am I in the wrong place, angel?”</p>
<p>As Aziraphale’s smile brightened impossibly, Crowley’s heart stirred from its hibernation. <em> Don’t get ahead yourself. Just because he’s radiant, doesn’t mean it has anything to do with you. </em> “Is, uh, Raziel here?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s glow dimmed slightly. <em> Of course, he’s asking after her. Be gentle. Be patient. Whatever he needs. For once be honest and treat him like he’s the most precious thing in your world. Because he is. </em></p>
<p>“Yes, over there,” he replied, pointing to where she and Nelchael were standing close together, just shy of canoodling. As Crowley turned to look, Aziraphale monitored every slight movement of his face, measuring the degree of his disappointment. Crowley’s eyebrow shot up as he saw Nelchael take Raziel’s hand. He opened his mouth and let out a confused series of consonants when she kissed his cheek. <em> How? When? But that means… </em> He turned back to Aziraphale and scrutinized his expression, searching for any indication of jealousy. Aziraphale was trembling, but Crowley saw neither resentment nor disappointment. Shocked relief warmed his chest as his heartbeat quickened. He regarded Aziraphale afresh, suddenly appreciating the new clothes were not chosen to impress a certain blond archangel. Was that a flash of red lining under his jacket collar?</p>
<p>Crowley stepped closer. Aziraphale’s breath caught as he backed into the statue. Goodness, where had all the air gone? He stammered, “That’s Nelchael. He was her quarantine officer, and, well, they were thrown together while she recovered in the bookshop.”</p>
<p>“And, ummm, we’re happy for them?” Crowley asked achingly softly. He took another step forward, and Aziraphale’s knees buckled. Increasingly lightheaded, he began to slide down the smooth surface. He grasped fruitlessly at the marble for support, the stone cool against his warm, damp palms. Crowley inched closer and extended his arm, barely brushing Aziraphale’s cheek, and rested his hand against the statue. Aziraphale shivered as he fought the urge to bury his face in the crook of Crowley’s arm. </p>
<p>“Yes. Yes, we are happy. Very,” he whispered, marshaling the courage to reach out and remove Crowley’s sunglasses. <em> Please. Please still feel something for me. </em> He searched for reassurance in the hypnotizing amber eyes staring unflinchingly into his own. Crowley then placed his other arm against the marble, enclosing Aziraphale between himself and the statue.</p>
<p>“Angel, I…” Crowley rasped. He leaned forward, his breath ghosting Aziraphale’s neck and leaving a ripple of goose flesh.  </p>
<p>“Yes?” Aziraphale closed his eyes and haltingly turned his head till their cheeks touched. The electrical charge left them both gasping.</p>
<p>“Aziraphale! Aziraphale!”</p>
<p>Aziraphale opened his eyes and saw Sandalphon weaving through the crowd toward him. Crowley had already retreated and was replacing his sunglasses when Sandalphon reached them.</p>
<p>“Aziraphale, you must join us. Gabriel is terrified of the food. He’s convinced if he eats shellfish he’ll Fall. Only you can calm him.” </p>
<p>Aziraphale glanced back and saw Gabriel making the sign of the cross at some unlucky server with a tray of shrimp cocktail.</p>
<p>“Oh dear. Crowley, you’ll have to excuse me. But we’ll continue this later,” he promised with a meaningful look. He then hurried off to de-escalate things before Gabriel made even more of a scene.</p>
<p>“Sandalphon,” sneered Crowley.</p>
<p>“Serpent of Eden,” taunted Sandalphon. “You would do well to leave the principality alone. With the reorganization and his inspired change management techniques, Aziraphale has become indispensable to Gabriel. He’s up for promotion. Look at him. No longer the odd duck, he’s the center of everything in Heaven. Would be a shame were he to lose it all due to unsavory associations. Heaven’s modernizing, but it’s never going to approve of so blasphemous a relationship.”</p>
<p>“Really? Gabriel seems to have become quite comfortable with Beez,” countered Crowley as he watched Beelzebub assist Aziraphale in ushering Gabriel to their dinner table.</p>
<p>“Oh that situation will resolve itself soon, I assure you. It’s too bad demons don’t feel love. If you did, you wouldn’t be tempting him to Fall.”</p>
<p>“You are no being of love,” Crowley growled, fists clenching at his sides.</p>
<p>“My wings are white. Yours are still soot, I presume?”</p>
<p>“Get out of here,” warned Crowley.</p>
<p>“Before you what? Start a fight in front of all these guests? That would make quite the impression.”</p>
<p>“You’re not worth it,” Crowley spat and then pushed past Sandalphon.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Mary Hodges surveyed the servers moving quickly between the kitchen and the guests’ tables. The event was going splendidly, as she expected. She had rebounded surprisingly quickly after the live ammunition debacle, rebranding Tadfield Manor as a posh event venue. Over the past eight years, Tadfield Manor had become a highly sought after reception site for weddings and corporate events. The prestige of hosting such a high profile product launch was quite the feather in her cap. Seeing her clients looking out from the portico, she stepped away from the staff.</p>
<p>“Gentlemen, I trust everything meets your approval?”</p>
<p>“Definitely. Everything’s perfect, Mary. Adam, I’m going to check in with Raziel.” Warlock put his arm around Adam’s shoulder. “We did it, mate!”</p>
<p>As he walked down the path, Mary leaned over to Adam. “What’s it like being both business partners and a couple?”</p>
<p>Adam laughed heartily. “Just business partners”. </p>
<p>“Oh, I didn't mean to assume,” she apologized.</p>
<p>“I’m not his type. He has a thing for redheads.” He winked at Mary and then headed down to join the guests.</p>
<p>Mary chided herself for the error and began her regular patrol around the grounds to ensure there would be no additional mistakes. She had walked these grounds as a satanic nun, a corporate training director, and an event planner. She knew where couples would slip away to snog, where teens would skulk off to smoke, and where trouble makers would sequester themselves to plot. Her gut told her to check the plotting alcove.</p>
<p>“I liked this place better when it was on fire,” grumbled Hastur.</p>
<p>Mary turned and stifled a gasp as she saw the man who appeared regularly in her nightmares, the source of the maniacal laughter as flames engulfed part of the manor 19 years ago. She ducked behind the hedges and tried to calm her heart, lest its terrified thumping draw attention to her.</p>
<p>“You’ll like it fine when we reveal the abomination that is Beelzebub and Gabriel. I never expected them to make it so easy for us. I thought we’d have to construct a story, manufacture photos, doctor some video. I can’t believe Gabriel actually adores them.” Sandalphon felt nauseated at the very idea of the romantic relationship that had taken root in such unlikely soil. Having just watched a tipsy Gabriel make doe eyes at them had provided a fresh coating of disgust to his assessment. “Both of them will be cast out in disgrace, leaving you in charge of Hell.” </p>
<p>“What about you? You’re not exactly next in line for the top job,” Hastur mocked, as he patted Sandalphon on the head.</p>
<p>Sandalphon glowered and moved away from the patronizing act. “Leave that to me. I’ve made sure Michael will be forever buried under paperwork. Aziraphale will be promoted. He’ll accept the role out of duty, but he has no interest in power. I’ll step into the vacuum in heaven, and you can hunt down Crowley without fear of smiting.”</p>
<p>“You’re sure Aziraphale won’t try to come to his rescue?” Hastur remained unconvinced.</p>
<p>“Aziraphale’s convictions will keep him busy in Heaven. Crowley is harmless without him, the idiot.”</p>
<p>“Beelzebub will be known as just as great a traitor. Both will spend eternity in Hell. In a bad way, that is.” Hastur laughed and sent fresh chills down Mary’s spine. Master Crowley had seen her worth, respected her enough to entrust her with the antichrist. That had given her the confidence to reinvent herself repeatedly over the years. Now she could finally repay her debt.</p>
<p>“Make yourself scarce. I need to get back to the party.” Sandalphon stalked off, and Mary watched in mute horror as Hastur descended into the ground.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Aziraphale had spent the past 30 minutes patiently explaining to Gabriel all the different items on the menu for the evening. The boisterous archangel had clearly over indulged on an empty stomach during the cocktail hour and was becoming something of a handful. Aziraphale regularly searched the other tables for Crowley when he could, but the demon was nowhere to be found.</p>
<p>Never one for eating, Crowley had ordered a generous double whiskey and positioned himself out of sight from the celestial and occult party. He watched as Gabriel repeatedly asked for Aziraphale’s guidance. Any time Gabriel wasn’t demanding his counsel, Aziraphale was engaged in animated discussions with Raziel and Nelchael. He looked happy. And much as Crowley was loath to concede anything to Sandalphon, Aziraphale obviously fit in with the heavenly set quite comfortably.  He observed the angel scanning the crowd repeatedly, but his attention always returned quickly to his dinner companions. Seeing Sandalphon rejoin the group, Crowley couldn’t stomach the idea of staring at that ugly face for the rest of the evening. He drained his glass, and headed for the main path to escape, glancing back one last time at Aziraphale.</p>
<p>Aziraphale saw the flash of Crowley’s sunglasses reflecting the light from the bar. The last time he had let Crowley leave, he spent eight years replaying that heartbreaking moment. He would not make the same mistake twice. He launched from his chair and ran to intercept him.</p>
<p>“Crowley! Are you leaving already?” Aziraphale huffed as he closed the distance between them.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he replied without turning back.</p>
<p>Aziraphale jogged to move in front of him and then held out shaking hands to stop him. “But dinner has several more courses”</p>
<p>“Don’t know, don’t care.”</p>
<p>“This is too sudden.” Aziraphale’s confusion began to give way to panic. <em> Do you regret our moment by the statue? Did I do something wrong? </em> “Crowley, please, what's the matter?”</p>
<p>Crowley stepped around him and resumed his dogged pace.</p>
<p>Aziraphale cast about desperately for anything to tempt him. “But the wines for dinner are exquisite. Is that not worth staying for?”</p>
<p>“No, there's nothing worth my staying for,” Crowley sniped and increased his speed.</p>
<p>Sandalphon came running up the path. For once sounding sincere, he implored, “Aziraphale, I really must insist. Gabriel just ordered another drink. He’ll only listen to you.”</p>
<p>“Thank you for my Sex on the Beach,” bellowed Gabriel to the bar staff.</p>
<p>“Oh, good Lord,” muttered Aziraphale as he watched Beelzebub try to usher him back to their table. He turned back to Crowley only to find he had slunk away.</p>
<p>“Aziraphale, please!” Sandalphon called as he rushed to assist them.</p>
<p>For the second time in recent memory, Aziraphale swore and then followed Sandalphon.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>[1] https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/155677?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>BiblioAngel:<br/>I cannot remain silent as you leave.<br/>I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach.<br/>I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.<br/>I offer myself to you with a heart even more your own, than when I thoughtlessly broke yours some eight years ago.</p>
<p>Wherein many truths are revealed</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really hadn't expected to change my chapter count. I had a plan from day one, but this final chapter kept growing. Even with cutting it here, it's one of the longest. To make it up to you, I'm posting this a day early and I'm aiming to have the final chapter up on Friday. Thank you for your patience!</p>
<p>Part Three: Chapter 12</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning found Aziraphale uncharacteristically dozing in the armchair in his room. A dozen or so angel winged mugs with varying volumes of cold cocoa decorated almost every flat surface. He had spent the night alternating between pacing anxiously and attempting to relax with hot cocoa and a book only to then forget about the beverage once his agitation required another round of pacing. At some point, exhaustion trumped his unrest and he had drifted off. A rapid knocking startled him awake. His body took him to the door before his mind was fully aroused. The unexpected visitor’s identity jolted his nerve cells to attention.</p>
<p>“Michael! What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>“We need to talk,” explained Michael curtly. She took stock of Aziraphale’s messy hair and rumpled clothing. “You look dreadful. Make yourself presentable and meet me downstairs.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale closed the door and surveyed the flock of mugs before banishing them back to the ether. A few minutes later his hair was tamed and the formal clothes replaced with a more tailored version of his typical uniform. He had puzzled at “innovation chic” for a few days before deciding to stick with the wardrobe he knew best. As it turns out, what had appeared out of place or odd for decades in London was the epitome of creative eccentricity for the Silicon Valley set, and Aziraphale would be mistaken for a tech mover and shaker repeatedly over the course of the day.</p>
<p>He found Michael examining the statue in the courtyard. As Aziraphale had no desire to discuss how the manor had been a satanic convent thus explaining the provenance of the man struggling against a serpent, he suggested they stroll the grounds. </p>
<p>“I understand Gabriel made quite the night of it,” Michael said with a touch of amusement.</p>
<p>“Ah. Well, he, uh,” Aziraphale began the sentence with no idea how to end it.</p>
<p>“It’s alright, Aziraphale. It’s not the first time he’s made a fool of himself in front of humans. Remember Mary?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale chortled and relaxed a bit, grateful that Gabriel’s Sex on the Beach was evidently not the topic for discussion.</p>
<p>“Sandalphon suggested I join the party since Gabriel may be indisposed this morning.”</p>
<p>“He did acquaint himself thoroughly with rum last night.”</p>
<p>Michael chuckled before continuing. “Aziraphale, you’ve been central to creating the new Field Angel program. The Host feel more connected to Her through their stronger connection to Her creation. With Raziel’s return, Gabriel and I think you should be rewarded with a promotion.”</p>
<p>“Very kind of you to say, but I only agreed to a temporary consulting position.” Aziraphale tucked his hands behind his back as he considered what a refusal meant. Since the Field Angel program truly was a success, it would continue even without him; no conviction drove him to remain.</p>
<p>“Don’t be hasty, Aziraphale. An elevated position in Heaven must be a little tempting?” Michael asked with a touch of mirth in her eyes. Aziraphale began to wonder if someone else had taken possession of her corporation.</p>
<p>“Excuse me, sir.” A member of the manor’s staff waited politely for Aziraphale to turn. “There’s a gentleman who says he must speak with you urgently. Could I show you to the house phone?”</p>
<p>“Oh dear, Gabriel must be awake. Excuse me, Michael.” Aziraphale followed the young man past the front desk to an alcove with an old-fashioned rotary phone. He lifted the handset and jumped when he heard a voice from behind him rather than from the phone.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Aziraphale.”</p>
<p>“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s relief at seeing him was palpable. “Oh, thank heavens. I was so worried when you…”</p>
<p>Crowley stood unnaturally straight, his voice strained. “I understand you’ll be relocating to Heaven permanently once you accept your promotion.”</p>
<p>“What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“Let me finish. I know Heaven isn’t big on physical objects. I can take care of your bookshop so you don’t have to part with any of your first editions. A little demonic miracle to keep anyone from noticing it, anything you need. Do you accept that offer?” </p>
<p><em>Why are you so stilted and distant? How do you even know about the promotion when I barely do?</em> Aziraphale’s exasperation finally exploded. He shouted, “Why is everyone assuming that I’m taking a promotion?”</p>
<p>Crowley showed no reaction. “Just say it. Yes or no. Then I will leave you alone.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s face crumpled as he processed Crowley’s words. In a small voice, he repeated, <em>“</em>Leave? You can’t leave, Crowley.” </p>
<p>Something had gone terribly wrong, but he was at a loss as to what. He certainly wasn’t going to answer Crowley for fear he would indeed leave. Hearing footsteps approaching them, he prayed for an escape from Crowley’s awful inquiry.</p>
<p>“Crowley,” acknowledged Michael in a clipped voice.</p>
<p>“Michael,” snarled Crowley.</p>
<p><em>Bollocks,</em> thought Aziraphale. There was no way to sort this out in front of Michael. Glancing back toward the courtyard, he saw Adam and Warlock greeting guests and the media.</p>
<p>“Oh, look. I think they’re beginning. Come along!” called Aziraphale fleeing to the safety of the crowd.</p>
<p>Michael stared at the demon with curiosity rather than disgust, to Crowley’s surprise. “You have an extraordinary ability to discompose our Principality.”</p>
<p>“You have an extraordinary ability to influence him, which I find unforgivable,” countered Crowley as he stalked away.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The courtyard was far more crowded than the night before. Tech journalists, influencers, and even a B list celebrity or two who owed Crowley a favour mingled with JEB’s staff. Fortunately, Raziel saw Aziraphale emerge from the lobby in a daze and then stumble into the crows. She waved him over to a shaded spot in the courtyard.</p>
<p>“Join us! It’s about to start!” Raziel was leaning comfortably against Nelchael who looked as confused about all the activity as Aziraphale. Turning from the dais, she now saw how pale and nervous he looked. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale stared at the two archangels and considered their casually intimate body language. <em>That.That comfortable attachment.</em> Raziel and Nelchael were the very picture of what Aziraphale had told himself for centuries that he didn’t want, mostly because he could never have it. The lie of it all was laid bare. He shook off the fear of Crowley leaving and for the first time in ages felt like a heavenly warrior with an unflagging faith in his cause. Aziraphale's eyes now shone with the same determination Raziel had noted the previous day. He answered her with gentle confidence, “Nothing to be done right now, but rest assured I am putting everything to rights.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Crowley stomped along the edge of the courtyard, considering his options. He couldn’t blame Aziraphale for choosing what made him happy. In fact, that was the only thing Crowley had ever really wanted for him. He just thought he would be more directly involved in said happiness. It had started so promisingly, with Aziraphale sheltering him from God’s first rainstorm. He shoved his hand into his pocket and considered snapping the box out of existence, but his infernal optimism stayed his hand. As he instead resolved to find the bar, or create one if needed, he heard Anathema calling him.</p>
<p>“Book girl!” Crowley slipped on his well-practiced indifference and leaned a hand against a railing, newly created simply because he expected it to be there. “Where’s Newt?”</p>
<p>“At home with Sophia.” She looked incredulously at him. “It’s a tech party, Crowley. It’d be a disaster if he came.”</p>
<p>“Oh, right, right” he replied distractedly.</p>
<p>“Are you alright?” Anathema had not seen his aura this miserable in a very long time. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“Nothing important.” Crowley shrugged and considered making an excuse to leave but knew Anathema would see through it. The generically zippy music faded and someone tapped a microphone. “‘Sppose we should watch the lads have their day, eh?”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Please join me in welcoming JEB’s co-founders, Adam Young and Warlock Dowling!”</p>
<p>The two young men strode onto the stage, Adam grinning easily and Warlock more nervously.</p>
<p>“Thank you all for joining us in celebrating the launch of JEB!” Adam paused for the cheers and applause to subside. “The team is so excited to share what they have been working 24/7 to build. We’d like to start with a story. Two of them, in fact. In one of those funny twists of fate, Warlock and I not only share our birthday but also our birth location. Almost 20 years ago, we both were born here, at Tadfield Manor, which was a convent and hospital at the time. We are very lucky to have parents that love and support us, although they are wildly different.”</p>
<p>Adam paused and winked at Warlock’s snickering. He then waved to his parents in the front row before continuing. “Our parents love each other very much, which is a good thing since they would drive anyone else crazy.”</p>
<p>Deirdre Young kissed Arthur on the cheek as he huffed at the very suggestion. Harriet Dowling howled in laughter before using her free hand to reduce the background noise as she spoke into a cell phone.</p>
<p>“Dad, every year Mom had to listen to you moan and complain about the village White Elephant sale. Really, Dad, you were pretty annoying,” laughed Adam. “But Mom never minded because she knew come rain or shine you would be the first there and the last one cleaning up.”</p>
<p>“Harriet, it’s been great getting to know you and the ambassador. I know Warlock complains about the constant moving and security details, but he also talks about how tough you are. Tad takes his job seriously and has the high standards to match. Some people would mind the travel and time he spent away, but Warlock talks about how proud you always have been of Tad’s work. How much both of you believe in its importance, in duty and service.”</p>
<p>“So about a year ago, we were kicking around ideas for a matchmaking app. People are basically good. You can’t just find a good person to find your soulmate. Then we spent an evening with an old friend, who probably doesn’t even remember telling us this thanks to the bottle of Talisker, but he said something about the right person being just enough of a bastard to be worth it. And we realized that’s the magic; the magic that our parents illustrated without us realizing. Finding the right person is all about finding the right kind of bastard for you. So please unlock your tablets and count down to the launch of JEB, Just Enough of a Bastard. Ten. Nine. Eight…”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Had Crowley been drinking two fingers of Talisker, he would have choked on it as Adam wrapped up his speech. Being without a drink, he had simply turned bright red as he dimly remembered an evening spent in the bar of a very expensive hotel in San Francisco. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, he glanced back at the marble serpent and man wrestling and derided himself for thinking he might be worthy of <em>his </em>bastard, of an angel. He needed out. He practically ran toward the lobby and his room to collect his things, leaving Anathema surprised and confused. </p>
<p>As he stomped toward the staircase, Mary tried to catch his attention.</p>
<p>“Not now, sister,” he growled and stormed past.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Adam’s speech had also affected Aziraphale. He searched the sea of bodies, hoping to share a meaningful look in reference to the bastard comment, but Crowley was nowhere to be found. Then he felt a tug at his sleeve.</p>
<p>“Mr. Aziraphale. I really must speak with you. I believe it’s a matter of life and death,” she paused to consider her words. “Well, I don’t know exactly. Can you kill a demon?”</p>
<p>That question captured Aziraphale’s undivided attention, and Mary gestured to follow her to a quieter location.</p>
<p>“I tried to talk to Master Crowley. To warn him he’s in danger, but he wouldn’t listen,” Mary explained.</p>
<p>“Tell me everything. Now!” Seeing her cower at his tone, Aziraphale added more softly, “please.” </p>
<p>“Last night I overheard the balding man in your party talking with an agent of Satan. The same one who started the fire 19 years ago. They are plotting to take over Heaven and Hell. They said that the tall drunk one and the short buzzing one would be revealed as traitors, that Michael would be too buried under paperwork to realize, and that you’d stay in Heaven out of a sense of duty, which would allow them to hunt down Master Crowley. Then they’d each be in charge of Heaven and Hell.”</p>
<p>“Despicable!” exclaimed Aziraphale in utter shock. Despite his revulsion at Sandalphon’s political maneuvering and general demeanor, he would never have thought the archangel capable of such treachery. Righteous rage along with fury at the threat to his demon coursed through his veins. He futilely scanned the crowds in search of his beloved. With a flick of the wrist, his flaming sword returned to his hand like an extension of will. Barely containing his anger, he turned back to a shaking Mary. “Thank you, my dear. Rest assured the truth will be revealed and I will keep Crowley safe. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to lend substantial weight to a moral argument.”</p>
<p>“Not like that you aren’t,” warned Michael as she dismissed Mary with a sharp look.</p>
<p>“Michael, you don’t understand what’s happened. Sandalphon is plotting…”</p>
<p>Michael raised her hand to interrupt. “Sandalphon’s plot has already been uncovered. That was the other thing we were supposed to discuss this morning.”</p>
<p>Stunned, Aziraphale slowly processed the implication of her interruption. “But he thought you’d be too buried under paperwork to notice anything.”</p>
<p>“Yes, and that’s how I discovered all his calls and text messages to hell. Not a brilliant move on his part.”</p>
<p>“So evil really does contain the seed of its own destruction,” huffed Aziraphale as the flaming sword disappeared from his hand. “But what about Gabriel and…”</p>
<p>“Beelzebub? Yes, I know about that, too. He’s got a crush on her. Yes, they’ve spent the entire day in his room, but he’d never betray Heaven. And thanks to the path blazed by a certain Ineffable Duo, the Host won’t care about them spending time together as long as they’re discrete.”</p>
<p>“So what are you going to do about him?”</p>
<p>“Revealing Sandalphon’s plot to the Host might make things more difficult for you and for Gabriel, reignite old enmities. I intend to offer the Sandalphon the choice between a trial and assuming responsibility for every form and requisition for the next millennium. Or two.” She smirked at the thought. “Little else will change. I’m keeping the new Field Angel programme though. You really did a great job on that. I’m here to collect Sandalphon. The rest of you can stay for the party and return to Heaven when you’re ready. Or not, as you wish.”</p>
<p>“You must know I have no intention of returning to Heaven after all this.” Aziraphale tried to imagine Michael as an ally, but the idea was too foreign to take root. A cessation of hostilities felt more fitting. “Well, I suppose I should say thank you.”</p>
<p>“How about we just agree that it was in both of our interests to deal with Sandalphon,” she countered and offered a hand which Aziraphale surprised himself by taking. “Now go find your demon.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Aziraphale raced through the crowd as he hit redial on his cell phone, but Crowley wasn’t answering. His constant redialing combined with his brusque manner in navigating the crowd and his unusual dress led several reporters to conclude he was a venture capitalist on the verge of a major investment, and they followed him closely hoping for a reputation–making scoop. The growing entourage made it harder to search the crowd, and in complete frustration Aziraphale turned and flashed a few too many eyes at them. They scattered quickly. Anathema and Raziel had found each other and were chatting until the gasps and a scream caught their attention. Catching a flash of Aziraphale’s true form, Raziel knew her friend needed help and waved to him. He sprinted to them.</p>
<p>“Have you seen Crowley? He isn’t answering his phone.”</p>
<p>“He walked out right as Adam was finishing,” offered Anathema. “He didn’t say a word either. It was odd even for him.” </p>
<p><em>Surely there must be some way to get him to listen.</em> Aziraphale again looked around frantically, his gaze pausing on the banner for the event.</p>
<p>“Raziel, help me use this computational slate. How do I find JEB?” He shoved the tablet at Raziel.</p>
<p>“Sure. Let’s get you registered. What do you want your username to be?”</p>
<p>“My what? Just hurry up before it’s too late.”</p>
<p>Raziel paused to take in Aziraphale’s panicked urgency. As understanding dawned on her, she broke into a huge smile. “Aziraphale, take a breath. It will be alright. I promise. Anathema, why don’t you guard the Bentley? He won’t leave without her.”</p>
<p>Grateful for her superuser privileges, Raziel overrode much of the registration process and soon returned the tablet to Aziraphale. “There you go, you’re BibilioAngel. Crowley is snake-eyes. I know, he thought it was clever when we were in the first round of testing. It’s all set. Message him!”</p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>BiblioAngel:</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I cannot remain silent as you leave. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I offer myself to you with a heart even more your own, than when I thoughtlessly broke yours some eight years ago.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>“Now what?” Aziraphale looked to Raziel for an answer he knew she could not give.</p>
<p>“Now you wait. Give him a moment. Don’t go too fast,” she offered.</p>
<p>Aziraphale tutted, “Oh, Raziel, if you only knew.”</p>
<p>Raziel reached across his arm and pointed. “He’s read it. See the check mark? Oh, he’s responding.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale clutched the tablet to his chest then looked down at the words appearing.</p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>snake-eyes:</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Feelings gone?</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Angels are creatures of love - the abundance makes it cheap to you.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>A demon must hold fast to what he can find.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>You alone brought me to Tadfield. Wasn’t that obvious?</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Heaven can offer you everything you deserve.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Far more than a demon.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Your bookshop will be under my protection should you ever need it.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Aziraphale groaned in frustration. <em>Foolish demon. You are all I want, all I need. </em>Aziraphale rapidly tapped out a response.</p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>BiblioAngel:</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Too good, too excellent creature! </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>You are my sincere, my only choice.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating,</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>but I remain uncertain of my fate.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Let me convince you with a word, a look. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Please.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>snake-eyes:</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>the statue</em>
  </p>
</blockquote>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale fought his way through the circus of reporters and guests, eyes locked on the statue in the distance. He finally burst past a last gaggle of JEBbers. Crowley had already reached the statue, just as he had been first to the bench, and the first to open his heart. Aziraphale vowed Crowley would never need wait for him again and fought the urge to run.</p>
<p>Wherein we reach our happy ending</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can't believe this is the last chapter! Thank you for your comments and kudos; your support and kindness far exceeded anything I dared hope for as a newbie author!</p>
<p>Thank you again to @summerofspock, @Liquid_Lyrium, @Princip1914, @squidzz, @Pyracantha, and @musegnome for critiquing, brainstorming, britpicking, and cheerleading.</p>
<p>Part Three: Chapter 13<br/>So concludes our tale</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>The statue.</em> Aziraphale’s hands trembled as he dried the tears of relief with his sleeve. He frantically tried to settle his nerves as he composed a speech to convince Crowley to stay.<em> How do humans manage to do this with such short lives? How do they stay together when the world around them changes all the time? Oh, of course. </em> He twirled the golden–winged ring on his pinky. </p>
<p>“Thank you, Raziel. Thank you ever so much.” He squeezed her hand as she beamed back at him.</p>
<p>“Go, you silly!” she encouraged.</p>
<p>He fought his way through the circus of reporters and guests, eyes locked on the statue in the distance. He finally burst past a last gaggle of JEBbers. Crowley had already reached the statue, just as he had been first to the bench, and the first to open his heart. Aziraphale vowed Crowley would never need wait for him again and fought the urge to run.</p>
<p>Crowley saw Aziraphale emerge from the crowd, breathless but with a beaming smile. His heart soared at the sight before he remembered himself. <em> Demons don’t get angels. Not without the angel Falling. </em> He swallowed hard and summoned every ounce of resolve to protect Aziraphale from that fate. As those piercingly blue eyes approached, he backed into the statue, anchoring himself as he fought the urge to run to him. Doubting his fortitude, he addressed Aziraphale as soon as he was within earshot.</p>
<p>“Angel, I can’t let you Fall. I thought you were safe after our trials, but then nothing seemed to be what I thought. You aren’t safe. Stop, you ridiculous, foolish principality! Stop!” he commanded sharply.</p>
<p>Aziraphale slowed his steps but continued on.</p>
<p>“Angel, you can’t just change the way things work,” he pleaded as the distance between them shrank. “Sandalphon made it clear that you’d lose everything you’ve gained in Heaven, your promotion, that you’d Fall if…”</p>
<p><em> Sandalphon! </em> A fresh wave of anger roiled through Aziraphale. <em> That’s why he had fled </em>. “First of all, Sandalphon is a scoundrel, and a liar, and of no consequence. He is in custody. In fact, Michael is escorting him upstairs this very moment. Secondly, I believe we proved eight years ago, rather conclusively I might add, that we can indeed change the way things work.”</p>
<p>Relief welled in Aziraphale’s chest as he watched confusion replace resistance in Crowley’s face; he knew he had found the sole remaining barrier and razed it. He just needed Crowley to catch up. He took a final step, halting inches from a still unsure Crowley. “I shan’t Fall. And I have no interest in spending another moment in Heaven. Last of all, darling, we have some unfinished business.”</p>
<p>“What’s that, angel?” Crowley was at sea. He knew he shouldn't hope, but Aziraphale was impossibly close. How could he think of anything but embracing his angel? He smelled of cocoa and sandalwood and warmth. Crowley balled up his fists to keep from sinking his hands into that perfect halo of white blond curls.</p>
<p>“That blackguard interrupted something important last night, dearest,” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s ear before cradling his cheek with a soft, manicured hand. As Crowley’s resolve crumbled, he leaned into the warmth. He whimpered as Aziraphale withdrew his hand and then ran both of them down Crowley’s arms, encircling his wrists, and finally coaxing Crowley’s still clenched fists to unfurl and clasp Aziraphale’s.</p>
<p>“Crowley, I’ve made you wait. Over and over and over again. Can you forgive me?” Aziraphale lifted their hands and softly kissed Crowley’s knuckles.</p>
<p>“Ngk,” Crowley choked.</p>
<p>“I promise to never go too slow again if you’ll have me.” Aziraphale’s confidence grew as Crowley’s coherence diminished. He released Crowley’s hands and continued, “Humans mark these vows with a physical reminder. If you’d allow me to stay by your side always, I thought you might accept this as a token of my promise.”</p>
<p>Crowley watched in astonishment as Aziraphale removed the winged ring he had worn for centuries and lifted Crowley’s left hand in a question. An incoherent hybrid of consonants and squeaks accompanied Crowley’s shaky nod. He had centuries of practice in offering things and then enduring the wistful expressions that accompanied Aziraphale’s refusals. He had exactly one experience in asking Aziraphale for something important and getting it, only to lose it within moments. He had absolutely no experience with Aziraphale being the one offering. He watched in wonderment as Aziraphale slipped the ring onto his ring finger. As the enormity of the act sank in, Crowley’s voice returned.</p>
<p>“Do you really mean that, angel? You’re not leaving? I can’t, I just can’t…”</p>
<p>Aziraphale flinched at the reminder of the pain he had brought him. “Never. I’ll never leave you again. That is my word, my pledge. Sealed with a kiss.” He lifted Crowley’s hand and kissed the newly adorned finger.</p>
<p>“Kiss him!”</p>
<p>The pair looked up, startled to find an audience surrounding them. The cheers and applause brought Crowley back to his senses. He reached into his pocket to retrieve the “box of love” Raziel had sensed a year ago.</p>
<p>“Have somethin’ for you, too,” he said cautiously. He opened the box and pulled out a black tungsten ring in the shape of an extended wing, on it a glistening crystal that looked impossibly like a raindrop. He took Aziraphale’s left hand and slid it on.</p>
<p>A chorus of awwws and applause erupted again. Anathema and Raziel had joined the gallery and cheered enthusiastically as well.</p>
<p>“Oh, Crowley. How long have you had this?” Aziraphale’s hand shook as he examined the crystal. “Did you miracle this stone?”</p>
<p>“The ring? Not <em> that </em>long. Uh, the not-a-stone? Forever. It’s a raindrop. From the first rainstorm.” As Aziraphale looked even more adoringly at him, Crowley looked away and hastened to add, “How was I to know water falling from the sky was gonna be a thing? Wanted a souvenir.” Crowley looked back to find his beloved glowing, actually glowing. “Uh, angel, you might want to turn down the wattage before people start asking questions.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure I can, dearest.” He leaned forward but then reluctantly thought better of removing Crowley’s sunglasses given the crowd. “Perhaps we should find somewhere quieter?”</p>
<p>A final round of cheers erupted as Aziraphale gave a small wave to the crowd and then took Crowley’s hand, pulling him eagerly toward the lobby. Raziel and Anathema dissolved into hysterics as they heard one reporter ask another, “Do you think that was staged? I mean what are the odds of a proposal at the launch of a matchmaking app?”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Safely in the lobby, Aziraphale glanced about before grabbing Crowley’s lapels and crowding him against a wall. Crowley melted as Aziraphale nipped at his earlobe and then planted gentle kisses down his jawline.</p>
<p>“Do. You. Have any idea. How long. I’ve wanted. To do this?” Aziraphale murmured, words punctuated with kisses.</p>
<p>Crowley threaded his fingers in Aziraphale’s hair and hissed contentedly, “Might do, angel”</p>
<p>Aziraphale stopped his ministrations upon reaching Crowley’s chin and finally removed his sunglasses. “May I?”</p>
<p>“Satan, yes!” Crowley tilted Aziraphale’s head and met his lips hungrily. Their first kiss in the bookshop had been gentle and tentative; they were still exploring what their new world might allow. After eight years of knowing they <em> could </em>be together but somehow weren’t, this was a kiss  to prove the other was not a mirage, a kiss to answer every miserable plea for a different fate, a kiss to obliterate their dashed hopes and crushing disappointments, a kiss to forever silence all doubts. A kiss that no sensible person would dream of interrupting.</p>
<p>“Uh-hem. Gentlemen, I hate to break up an intimate moment, but Aziraphale, may we speak for a moment? Have you thought any further about Heaven’s offer?” Gabriel waited impatiently for Aziraphale to disengage his mouth from its employ and turn to him. </p>
<p>“Whatofferwasthat?” Aziraphale exhaled before returning to his earlier occupation.</p>
<p>“Your promotion, of course!” Gabriel exclaimed in shock before looking behind his back.</p>
<p>“Bleah. No one wants to see that. C’mon, Gabe! I need to tell a certain Duke of Hell that he’s got hellhound kennel duty for the next millennium.” Beezelbub grabbed his lavender tie and rushed them out of the lobby.</p>
<p>“Never thought I’d owe Beez a thank you,” scoffed Crowley. “Lift home, angel?”</p>
<p>“Yes, dearest. You know, this may be the first time I shan’t mind how fast you drive” Aziraphale said casually. He then flashed a sly grin and a meaningful wink that left his demon a lovely shade of red.</p>
<p>Crowley grabbed his hand and dragged him Bentley-ward urging, “Right, right. Into the car, angel.”</p>
<p>“But my clothes. My first edition <em> A Room with a View </em>!” protested Aziraphale without any bite.</p>
<p>“Raziel will get them.” He snapped. “Just sent her directions. I’m taking you home <em> now </em>.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <em> One week later </em>
</p>
<p>Crowley whistled as he sauntered into the bookshop with a string-tied pink box and a bouquet of flowers. Aziraphale stepped out of the back room and smiled radiantly.</p>
<p>“Do I smell apple, you ol’ serpent?” he asked, accepting the box and a kiss on the cheek before Crowley went to fetch a vase for the flowers.</p>
<p>“Tarte Tatin. Francois is just back from holiday - first day open,” Crowley called out from the back. He returned with the vase and a plate for Aziraphale.</p>
<p>As the two settled into the couch, Aziraphale moaned his approval of the pastry. Crowley stretched out his ridiculous limbs and laid his head in his angel’s lap as he pulled out his phone.</p>
<p>“Anathema texted. They’re back from visiting her family and planning a belated birthday party for Sophia. We’re free next weekend, yeah?” Crowley slithered against the cushions to settle into his preferred napping position.</p>
<p>“Of course, that sounds lovely! I wonder if Raziel will join. I didn’t expect them to become so close,” mused Aziraphale between bites and contented wiggles.</p>
<p>“Yup, thick as thieves those two. Think she’ll bring Nelchael?” Crowley asked drowsily.</p>
<p>“Oh, I suspect she’ll bring anything that requires Sandalphon to do extra paperwork,” chuckled Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“He deserved a lot worse,” Crowley growled before a gentle hand began to stroke his hair.</p>
<p>“Now, now, dearest. Michael was only looking out for us. Yes, I know how strange that sounds. Why don’t you nap and I’ll wake you for the play.” </p>
<p>“I like the funny ones,” Crowley murmured. “Stay on the couch? </p>
<p>Aziraphale lifted Crowley’s hand and kissed it tenderly. “Always by your side, love. Sleep tight.”</p>
<p>
  <em> finis </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Michael Sheen reading the letter:<br/>"I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever…"<br/>https://open.spotify.com/track/1L6mfFOTlU4xcn5hFOcOLs?si=SK1lYM-JS86QGJx5Aiv9KA</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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